


Untouchable

by Quotingmachine



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: -Ish, Angst, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Fluff, Forensics, Original Character(s), Rewrite, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 04, Slow Burn, Wordcount: Over 150.000, and on and on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 136,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25254256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quotingmachine/pseuds/Quotingmachine
Summary: Waking up in a hospital was not Lydia's idea of a good time... but it was about to start becoming a lot more common for her.A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in Season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 254





	1. Jenna Borge

Waking up in a hospital was not Lydia’s idea of a good time.

Not as a broke college student. And especially not when she had no recollection of injuring herself. In fact, she couldn’t even remember falling asleep. It was like she had blinked and found herself horizontal… Not great.

She tried to pull herself together enough to figure out what was wrong. Other than her head being fuzzy, she couldn’t seem to find any injuries on herself. Perhaps she’d passed out? But if that were the case, Jenna would have given her some water and put her to bed. What would warrant a trip to the hospital?

“Lydia Ambers?” A woman asked, pulling her attention to the door. “My name is Detective Richards. I have a few questions for you.”

_ Oh shit…  _

~ ~ ~

“Last night, in Santa Cruz, California, college student Jenna Borge was stabbed multiple times in her dorm room. Her roommate, Lydia Ambers, was sedated with antipsychotics, but otherwise unharmed.”

“So, it’s personal,” Morgan inferred.

“You would think that,” JJ agreed. “Only, this doesn’t look to be his first kill. Two months ago, a recent graduate from UC Santa Cruz, Elizabeth Chang, was stabbed and killed while walking home from work. Six months before that, Lucy Max was found in an alleyway. The first two girls were assumed to have been victims of muggings, but now with Jenna’s death, the Santa Cruz PD are thinking it’s a serial killer.”

“Any connection between the victims?” Elle asked, but JJ shook her head.

“Nothing but age and gender. These girls were of different races, social standings, and Lucy was a college student at a different school than Elizabeth and Jenna. It’s highly unlikely that these girls have any friends in common.”

“Why leave the roommate alive then?” It was Reid this time, looking through the information on his file. “If our unsub has no preference for the girls he picks, why not kill her too? And the fact that he had the tranquilizer handy means he knew she would be there and had planned ahead of time not to kill her.”

“So, our unsub has some sort of connection with these girls. He’s killing  _ these  _ girls for a reason. The question is, what reason?” Gideon finished, standing up to leave. “Let’s go to California.”

~ ~ ~

“I need you to tell me everything you remember,” Detective Richards said, sitting beside Lydia’s bed.

“What’s going on?” Lydia demanded. “Why am I here?”

“I really need to know what you know before I tell you anything,” the woman explained, unhelpfully.

“I don’t know anything! I swear, the last thing I remember was studying in my room.”

“Was your roommate there?”

Lydia huffed. She didn’t get it. Something was going on, something bad, likely having to do with the fact that she ended up in a hospital with no apparent injuries. And the only person who knew was being passive and dodging her questions.

The last time she’d had to deal with the police like this, they’d been as blunt as a hammer. Sixteen-year-old Lydia had no clue what was coming and they swept the rug out from underneath her. She had felt like she was drowning, being asked a thousand questions before their words could sink in.

Somehow, Detective Richards was worse.

“Yes. My roommate was trying to sleep.”

“And was there anyone else in the room with you?”

Lydia did all she could to keep from scratching her own eyes out. “No.”

“Are you sure? This is vital information, Miss Ambers. We need to know everyone who came in and out of your room yesterday.”

“I’m not lying,” she insisted. “Only Jenna and I were in our room. Now please, tell me what happened!”

The detective hesitated a moment. Lydia’s heart leapt into her throat, the suspense finally catching up to her. Perhaps a realization, too. For some reason, she could see where this was going.

“Last night, someone came into your room and murdered your roommate, Jenna Borge.”

The denial struck first. “That doesn’t make any sense. Jenna was right next to me. I would’ve… No one was there but us.”

“You two were found by a classmate of Jenna’s. She thought you both were dead, but when the police arrived on scene, they realized that you had been knocked out, but were still breathing. The doctor can talk to you about that more than I can. Whoever killed your roommate drugged you first, to stop you from doing anything.”

And then, as always…  _ the anger. _

“Leave.”

~ ~ ~

Jenna was gone. Really gone. Lydia had tried calling her phone multiple times, but stopped herself when she realized that listening to Jenna’s voice was only fueling her anger.

It felt as if storms raged in Lydia’s stomach. If the universe was really out to get her, why did it never come for her directly?

She shed her tears quickly that night, knowing that her hospital room might be the only place for her to safely do so. Once she left, she couldn’t disappear. People would want to talk to her about it. She’d have to go back to class. And there really wasn’t any way of processing something like this except moving on.

“Drink a lot of water,” the nurse explained to Lydia, as she escorted her out of the hospital the next morning. “You’ll likely be lethargic for the next few days, so go easy on yourself. Take a day off or ask your teachers to be gentle with your workload.”

“Thank you,” she responded, shortly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Lydia Ambers?”

Lydia groaned.  _ Another cop? Really? _

The man who had called to her stood in the waiting room of the hospital. He pulled out a badge, though he was still too far away for her to see. His partner, a far younger, taller man, was raking his eyes over her, as if looking for something.

Lydia left her escort and walked over to the two of them, arms crossed over her chest. “Yes?”

“My name is Agent Gideon, this is Dr. Reid. We’re from the FBI.”

She raised an eyebrow, not intending to be challenging, but she couldn’t help it. Lydia had never been great at calming herself down, despite all the opportunities to practice. “Whoopie for you. I explained to Detective Richards what happened that night. I honestly don’t remember anything. If you’re here to take me in as a suspect, go ahead, but if not, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

“Miss Ambers, we work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We’re not questioning you as a suspect, but we believe the man who attacked your roommate might have known her before he killed her. You might have known him as well. Do you think you could come back to the station with us and sit through a few more questions?”

_ No, I can’t. The emotional strength it takes to pretend like I’m okay is too much for me. Another hour of questioning and I guarantee my head will explode, I’ll vomit what little is left in my stomach and then my own intestines, and I’ll assault a police officer… In that order. _

“Don’t call me Miss Ambers,” she insisted, ignoring the violent monologue replaying in her head. “Lydia is fine. But yes, I’ll come along.”

Agent Gideon nodded and Lydia could see an understanding in his eyes. But she pushed it aside as simply his experience in dealing with grieving strangers.

He led her and Dr. Reid out of the hospital and to a black SUV. As they walked, Dr. Reid fell slightly behind Lydia, which she knew couldn’t be an accident considering his insanely long legs. And even if she didn’t know that, his gaze was burning holes into her side.

“Are you sure I’m not a suspect?”

“Do you think you should be?” Agent Gideon asked.

“No, but Dr. Reid here is staring at me like I might pull a gun on him any minute.”

The guy looked startled that she had even acknowledged him, glancing at Gideon like he needed permission to speak to her. “Um, I was trying to identify the source of your limp. Your hip and knee don’t jerk when you walk and you seem to be able to extend them fully, but you clearly favor your left leg.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. Normally the question was phrased as ‘What’s wrong with your leg?’ She had to admit, she appreciated his forwardness about staring, but it didn’t make her want to answer any more.

“Well, don’t worry Dr. Reid. My medical records will reflect the fact that I have had this for 5 years and it doesn’t affect the case. Thank you for the concern, though.” And with that, she slid into the backseat and shut the door.

He looked at Gideon, confused. “I wasn’t asking because I’m-”

“That means don’t talk about it, Reid,” Gideon told him, before he also got into the car and turned on the engine.

~ ~ ~

“How long had you known Jenna?” Gideon started, having Lydia sit down in an empty room in the station. Reid continued his hovering in the back, completely silent.

“Since we were freshmen… We were going to graduate together next month.”

Saying those words aloud was harder for Lydia than she thought. Her nose started to burn, a sign that tears were on the way, but she set her face with a look of determination. Jenna wasn’t going to graduate. That was a fact now. She couldn’t do anything about that.

“Are you alright, Mi- Lydia?”

She scoffed. “I’m sorry?” she asked, thrown completely off guard. “Should I be?? My friend was just…” The words died in her throat.

“I’m sorry.” Agent Gideon’s tone was completely sincere, but he continued mercilessly. “You’re not displaying some of the typical signs of grief-”

She laughed, dryly. “You analyze behavior and you don’t know that people handle their grief differently?”

“Of course I do. And yours indicates guilt. Perhaps some past trauma you’re trying to repress-”

“You said I wasn’t a suspect-”

“And you’re not-”

“Then stop profiling me!” She smashed her fist against the table and the sudden sting against her hand brought her back to reality.  _ Don’t make this harder. Getting angry at the police only made both sides more frustrated, it wouldn’t compel anyone to find out who did this faster. _ She gritted her teeth to continue. “Yes, I feel guilty. I let someone sedate me and  _ kill  _ my roommate. And I just don’t understand why he didn’t kill me! Everything else: my anger issues, my past, my fucking leg, it doesn’t pertain to this case. So, please, just let me be.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve upset you.”

That was a shift from what she was used to. When she was younger, it was always the same routine. She’d lash out and the rest of the world would send her away until she calmed down. And she knew that it was her fault. That they didn’t deserve her rage. But she never realized how nice it might be to have someone stop her then and there. And take the blame away from her fury, if only for a moment.

“You didn’t upset me. Agent Gideon, I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse characters than me… at least I hope you have. Just know that I’m doing my best… if there was more to say, I would have told you. If it was going to help, I’d tell you every detail of my past, but it isn’t.”

He seemed to agree with that. _ Maybe he wasn’t so bad. _

“Now then… what else do you want to know?”

~ ~ ~

“Notice anything?” Gideon inquired as the two of them left Lydia, exiting the room she was held in and joining the team in a separate part of the station.

“Yeah? She’s like a walking contradiction. She claims anger issues, but she shows no signs of stress. She makes snappy remarks, but physically she seemed anxious, not angry. Her face is relaxed and her shoulders hold all her tension, not her hands or jaw.”

Gideon nodded, listening closely to the boy’s observations. “What do you make of the fact that she keeps asking if she’s a suspect?”

“Nerves? Guilty conscious? Maybe she’s afraid we’ll find something and she wants to make sure we aren’t looking into her.”

“Good. She doesn’t want to be profiled, that usually indicates that she’s hiding something. But, it always comes back to her past, one she claims Jenna had no part of. So… she’s got a bad history, but it’s unrelated to the case.”

“And for some reason it’s taking priority in her mind, instead of Jenna’s death,” Reid concluded.

“You talking about the roommate?” Hotch asked as they approached.

“Yes,” Gideon explained. “She’s an interesting one. A challenge.”

“Do you think she’s involved?”

Gideon shook his head. “If her medical report wasn’t alibi enough, she shows no signs of being a psychopath. Or a sociopath, for that matter. But she’s hard to profile. She’s got a complicated past, no doubt.”

Morgan laughed upon hearing this. “There’s someone Gideon and Reid can’t profile?”

Reid tried to defend the two of them almost immediately. “It’s almost like she uses her generic differences to hide from the bigger ones. Like, she kept saying she had anger issues, and while that added up with her reactions, clearly they stem from something very particular in her life and she’s trying to pretend like that’s not there. Or something…”

Morgan looked him up and down, noticing Reid’s hesitance in his words:  _ almost, like, something… _ “She’s got you all confused, Reid. I’ve got to meet this chick.”

“You can,” JJ said, walking into the room with Lydia in tow. “She’s still here.”

The whole room looked up as the new girl strode in. Spencer watched her closely, but for some reason, all his suspicions about her had dissolved after meeting her in the hospital. He tried to be unbiased, but he had something of a gut feeling about her. An inexplicable trust that this act of hers was reasonable.

Lydia’s hair was dark, the ends brushing her shoulders as she walked. She looked nervous, approaching the room of profilers, but her voice was completely steady as she spoke.

“I want to offer more assistance. Better assistance than talking about Jenna’s past boyfriends… I just finished an internship recently with the SCPD. I’m a chemistry student, on track to becoming a forensic scientist. I know I’m not anywhere near as qualified as you are, but I’m far more familiar with the crime scene. At the very least, let me point out anything suspicious. Before you guys clear it out, that is.”

Hotch sucked in his lips, hesitantly, before approaching. “Miss-”

“Lydia,” she and Gideon said simultaneously. She glanced at the older man with an unreadable expression.

“Lydia,” Hotch corrected. “I’m Agent Hotchner. What you’re asking to do is difficult. You’ve seen how some of these crime scenes turn out. It’s messy. We can’t guarantee you’re psychologically ready to see what’s there.”

“I won’t be a burden,” she insisted. “You can have surveillance over me the whole time. But I’m positive I can help.”

“Let her do it,” Gideon chimed in. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Hotch was clearly not convinced on the matter, but he nodded. “Reid and Morgan, go along.”

Derek approached, reaching his hand out to shake. “I’m Agent Morgan.”

“Lydia,” she introduced, her demeanor calmer now that Hotch had agreed. “Thank you,” she told the unit chief and left briskly.

“She’s definitely guarded,” Morgan admitted. “She must be hiding a big heart underneath that mask. That  _ or  _ she has ulterior motives to go to the crime scene.”

~ ~ ~

_ Don’t touch anything. _

She almost ran the minute the door opened. It had been a day and a half and the room still smelled with an iron-y sharpness.

_ If you start to cry, or feel sick, just go. Don’t stop to explain yourself. _

Every time she looked at the bed, the words ‘ _that’s not hers_ ’ flashed in front of her eyes. That dark red stain… that’s not hers. And the light red droplets by the door… that’s not hers.

_ If you can’t handle it, leave. _

Wait… that’s not hers...

“Did you guys test this blood?”

Morgan’s face read with clear confusion. “Why do you ask?”

Lydia’s eyes glanced between the bed and the few spots on the floor. “You said he tied her to the bed before stabbing her. Then, how did these get here? It’s not like he or the knife was dripping with  _ her  _ blood, or else there’d be more evidence of it around the room. Not to mention, he had to walk out of the room and down the hall without raising suspicions. So, it’s unlikely there was enough blood on him or the knife to drip on the floor over here. However, if he’d accidentally been cut, he’d be quick to cover it. Probably didn’t notice any evidence hit the floor. That’s why there’s some here, far away from the body, but not trailing to or from it.”

“Very clever,” Gideon acknowledged. “We actually did have that blood tested. It wasn’t your roommates.”

She nodded, but didn’t seem all that happy to hear she was right. Reid had taken notice that the whole time she was explaining her theory, she never called her roommate by her name. She was distancing herself, which was probably good at the moment, but he wondered what she could be thinking about.

“She struggled,” Lydia continued, looking at the disheveled blankets and items which had fallen from her desk. “That’s good… I need to look in these drawers.”

“I don’t know-” Morgan started, but Gideon was already pulling a pair of gloves out of his pocket. 

“Put these on first.”

The younger man was clearly not happy about it, but didn’t say anything, instead glancing at Reid, who looked on curiously. Both him and Gideon wanted to know what Lydia might find.

Once her blue surgical gloves were on, she opened up the drawers to Jenna’s desk. Nothing looked weird. A little scattered, but it reflected Jenna quite well. She was just beginning to think the unsub hadn’t touched anything when a thought crossed her mind.

“Where’s her jewelry?”

“We didn’t find any,” Morgan explained and Lydia shook her head.

“That doesn’t make sense. Jenna-” she caught herself, voice catching only for a moment. “... _ She _ always wore necklaces. She kept them in this drawer, because she didn’t like to leave expensive items out. She’d even hide them underneath all of the clutter in the hopes that a thief or burglar wouldn’t search all the way down for them. But they aren’t here. None of them are.”

“That doesn’t add up,” Morgan argued. “We didn’t profile this guy as a robber. Why’s he suddenly stealing expensive jewelry from his victims?”

Lydia shrugged and held up a wallet. “Not for the money. This is still full of cash.”

“The necklaces are a trophy for our unsub,” Gideon reasoned. “We’ve seen weirder.”

She nodded. “Her desk is always this disheveled. He could have searched them, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Anything else seem odd to you?” Gideon asked, noticing a decline in her energy.

She bit down on her bottom lip. Her eyes scanned every corner of the room, zipping over the bed quickly. “Nothing.”

Reid paused, the wheels in his head turning. “We should check pawn shops nearby and see if any of Jenna’s jewelry ended up there. We can try to trace it back to him.”

Gideon agreed. “You two get on that. Lydia, can you come back to the station with me to look over a suspect list?”

She nodded, slowly.

~ ~ ~ 

“ _ No… No… No… No…  _ ”

Lydia was worried she had hit her limit. Any motivation to help was slowly seeping out of her and a need to scream was replacing it. She’d never seen these guys before. Never heard their names. The most she was able to do at the crime scene was tell them about the necklaces and then a bunch of stuff they already knew. The helpless feeling was taking over once more.

“Gideon.” JJ grabbed his attention as she walked in with a cup of coffee. She set it down next to him, then glanced at Lydia. “Can I possibly get you anything?”

Lydia shook her head. “No… I’m fine. I just-” Something compelled her to go out on a limb. “JJ? Do you know if Jenna had any jewelry on her when she died?”

The blonde woman paused. “No. I can go check the record?”

“Please,” Lydia mumbled.

As she walked off, Gideon raised an eyebrow at her. “You think the unsub might have left a necklace on her person?”

Lydia just dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know,” she huffed. “Looking at these random men isn’t helping. It’s the only lead I’ve got so just… go with me here.”

They waited a moment for JJ to come back in. “She wasn’t wearing any jewelry, but it looks like they found a broken necklace in her pocket.”

Lydia’s ears perked up. “May I see it?”

“I’ve got a picture?” JJ offered.

“Yes. That’d be great.”

Once again, she was gone and Gideon was more invested by the minute. “Broken necklace. That’s interesting. Perhaps he left it behind because it was broken?”

“Maybe he ripped it off her,” Lydia fired back.

“Here you are.” JJ dropped a picture of a beautiful gold chain with a small pink jewel attached to it. And Lydia finally felt some relief.

“What is it?” Gideon asked.

“This isn’t Jenna’s necklace.”

~ ~ ~

“Lydia believes that part of our unsub’s ritual is taking his victim’s necklaces and leaving them on the next one. Lucy Max didn’t have any jewelry on her when we found her, but Elizabeth Chang had a broken necklace in her pocket, which we can’t identify as belonging to her and Lydia claims the one in Jenna’s pocket wasn’t hers either. And since he took all of Jenna’s necklaces, it looks like he plans to drop one on the following victim as well.”

Hotch shook his head. “That’s a lot of faith to put in a random college student. This could very easily have been placed.”

  
“I trust Lydia,” Gideon declared. “You should have seen her on the scene, Hotch. She’s a natural at this.”

“Yeah. Maybe she’s been studying up on you. We’ve seen that before. You said you could barely figure this girl out, how do we know she’s not manipulating our case?”

“She’s not,” Gideon insisted once more. “Listen, I’ll strike you a deal. Look into this. For me. We think this guy gets his high off of leaving hints as to who he is. Start with anything that might have significance to a necklace. If I’m wrong, I’ll do all the paperwork for the next 3 cases.”

“And if you’re right?” Hotch asked, not sure why he was even considering a deal now. But he was curious. And Gideon seemed set on the idea.

“If I’m right, you have to offer Lydia a job.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia woke up once again without any recollection of having fallen asleep. This time, however, she wasn’t in a hospital bed, which was a relief.

She found herself on a couch. In the police station. She sat up, worried about how long she must have been there, but no one had kicked her out yet. So… hopefully not long?

That’s when she identified the sound that had awoken her. A soft knocking came from the doorframe of the room she was in. She whipped around to find an exhausted Agent Gideon waiting for her attention.

“Sorry to disturb you Lydia, but we’re headed back to the jet, so you’ve got to leave the station.”

“Back to the jet?” She jumped from the couch. “Did you find him?”

“Yes… You were right.”

Lydia wanted to say something but found herself tripping over her own tongue. It felt as if a wave was crashing into her back. She was being pushed forward, away from the distraction of finding who did this to Jenna and instead down into the ocean

Grief was a bitch.

“I… I was right?” she asked.

Gideon started to explain the man they caught to her. Jonathan Carrey. She heard the key words as he said them: necklaces, pawn shops, mother, college girls, confession. But none of them formulated the actual accomplishment Lydia had been waiting for.

“Oh…”

She couldn’t react. Not anymore. All her energy was wasted. She was free from the strong compulsion to find out what had happened to Jenna and left with determination stats in the negatives.

“Lydia, do you have somewhere to go for now?”

She nodded.

“Okay… get some rest. You did good today.”

She felt like she was going to be sick.  _ You did good… _

_ She’s still dead. _

And after some hesitance, Agent Gideon was gone.

Lydia picked up her phone, calling a friend to see if she could stay for a few nights.

Process. Cry. Move on. Rest.

She really needed that right now.

“Hey,” a soft voice called as she hung up the phone. This time, it was the strangely silent Dr. Reid who was watching her.

He sort of peaked in and waited for a response or invitation. After she didn’t give him any, just a blank, detached stare, he came in on his own terms

“Uh, I thought you might…” he drifted off, judging her expression before continuing. “I thought you might want these.”

He held open his hand to show her a small, knotted collection of necklaces.

“We recovered them from Jonathan Carrey’s shop. I was considering giving them to Jenna’s parents, but when we spoke to them, they didn’t seem to know as much about Jenna’s jewelry collection as you. So, I figured you’d appreciate them more.”

Lydia took them from him slowly, wrapping the chains around her fingers. Unexpectedly, a few tears slipped down her cheeks, but Lydia let them fall. She deserved it.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.”

It was peculiar, but as he left, a single thought ran through his head:

_ With everything Lydia had been through, that was the first time he’d heard a tremble in her voice. _


	2. The Offer

“You got it all sorted out?” Gideon asked Hotch as he walked into his office. It had been a month since their case in Santa Cruz and Gideon had been on Hotch’s ass about this since they got back.

“It’s… not a job…” Hotch started. “I talked to Strauss and she said that there was no proof that a forensic scientist would be of any benefit to the team. Police departments provide them and local forensic scientists have access to scenes sooner.”

“Police departments can also have media liaisons and tech analysts, but we bring in our own,” he argued. “I spoke to some of Lydia’s old professors and they said that she’s not only a good crime scene investigator, but her major was chemistry and she’s fit to get a job in DNA analysis or toxicology.”

“Gideon, what did I say about not getting involved? Strauss needs proof that she is an asset to the team before paying her a salary. So, I got her to agree to let Lydia work here as an intern under your supervision.”

“Done,” Gideon said. “By the end of the month, she’ll have proven worthy of a spot on this team.”

“No, there’s more,” Hotch told him, frustrated. “She only gets to work jobs that we clearly need her on and she gets no more than two cases every 50 days.”

“Fine, fine,” Gideon replied, which did nothing to ease Hotch’s worry. He, too, had been impressed by Lydia during the Jonathan Carrey case, but there were parameters on hiring people into the FBI and Gideon acted like those meant nothing.

He’d been the same way about Reid after he first spoke to him, but Reid was cut out to be a profiler from day one and they had an opening for him. Gideon wanted Hotch to simply create a brand new job title and salary for Lydia and he couldn’t do that.

“Should I call her and tell her to pack up her things and move to DC?”

Hotch blinked. “You haven’t already told her about the possibility of a job, have you?”

“No,” Gideon laughed. “I can’t promise her a job when I don't have the jurisdiction to hire anybody.”

That was a relief, but Hotch was still afraid Gideon had let on too much. He  _ had  _ just admitted to calling her professors to learn more about her abilities. So, he replied, “You can tell her that we have an internship position that she might be interested in and ask her about her ability to leave California. That is all.”

~ ~ ~

“Agent Hotchner. Agent Gideon,” Lydia greeted as she entered the BAU. It was crazy enough to be in Virginia, seeing as she’d never left California, but FBI headquarters?

She shuffled around nervously and adjusted her glasses numerous times despite the fact they were already as far up her nose as they could go.

“Lydia,” Gideon greeted, warmly. “How was your flight?”

“It was alright. Exciting. I’ve never been on an airplane before.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. No one should have to go through airport security for their first time alone,” Hotch said. “Why don’t we step into my office?”

He and Gideon led the way into the bullpen and around to his office. Lydia’s eyes darted around, seeing Morgan, Elle, and Reid at their desks, engrossed in their work. She wondered if any of them would even recognize her if she caught their eye. She was surprised enough when Gideon called.

“I assume you’ve been considering my offer?” Gideon asked, closing the door behind her.

“Considering, yes. But it would be… difficult, to say the least. I’d love to hear it from your mouths… the offer, that is.”

Hotch sat down at his desk and gestured for her to do the same.

“Agent Gideon and I would like to offer you an internship here at the BAU as a forensic science technician. When we took you on as a consultant in Santa Cruz, you proved to have inspiring potential. You would only be called out for occasional cases, once every month or so. Agent Gideon would be your supervisor.”

“And this would mean moving to DC?”

“Eventually, yes. We can’t exactly fly you out to every new scene from California. It would be easier to have you here, getting briefed with us, taking the jet, etcetera. You’ll also need to go through a training period here and likely will be asked to work in the office, even when you aren’t on a case. How big of a problem would that be? Do you have a lot of family there?”

“No, not family. I mean, it’s just me and my sister and she’s been doing just fine on her own while I’ve been at college, so we’ll manage the distance. The issue is I’m set to start a masters program next semester. I’m just… unsure how I feel about dropping out of school. I know this is a crazy opportunity, but it’s not a full-time job. And if I don’t do well and you guys decide not to keep me, I’m poor  _ and  _ stuck in DC.”

Gideon, who’d been hovering in the back of the room stepped forward. “If we fire you for some reason, I promise to personally pay for your flight back to California.” It was a joke, but in all seriousness, a flight wasn’t even half of it.

“You wouldn’t have to drop out,” Hotch added. “Many schools nearby would be happy to have you and the Bureau rarely has problems with schools refusing to work around our interns schedules. And even if that’s too difficult, this experience will likely open up many opportunities in the future. I’d be happy to write you a million letters of recommendation should you decide to find work elsewhere.”

“I, uh-”

“Hey Hotch?” A familiar voice called, knocking on the door.

He apologized to her momentarily, before saying, “Come in, Reid.”

The door swung open and the boy looked right over Lydia’s head to his boss. “JJ wanted me to tell you that she…”

He trailed off as he felt more pairs of eyes on him. He glanced at Gideon before finally landing on Lydia.

She decided to make the first move, seeing as he was stunned into silence. “Dr. Reid, how nice to see you again.” She stood up to greet him, a smile gracing her features.

“Lydia, I uh… Sorry, to interrupt I really had no- Oh! And it’s nice to see you, too,” he fumbled. “I’ll… I can talk to Hotch later. Sorry, again for interrupting.” And with that he shut the door and was gone.

“Sorry about that. I figured it might have been important, that’s why I invited him in. What were you going to say?”

Lydia froze, her mind drifting elsewhere. “Does the team know? That you are offering an internship into the team?”

Hotch shook his head. “We  _ aren’t  _ offering an internship into the team. We’re offering  _ you  _ an internship into the team. We were waiting to see if you agreed to it.”

“Well, I don’t want to force them to work with someone super under experienced. They aren’t paid to be teachers.”

“The only one who’s going to be teaching you anything is me,” Gideon reassured her. “You are more than capable of holding your own with them. I trust you.”

Lydia felt her throat close up. It was all set up. A job she couldn’t even dream of and here they were, offering it up on a silver platter. “So, this is all… serious. I move to DC and just… work for the FBI all of a sudden?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes. That’s our offer.”

Lydia looked Hotch over, as if trying to profile whether or not he was lying. And finally, she said, “I would like that. Thank you.”

~ ~ ~

“You’ll need to fill out some legal release forms, medical history forms, and I’ll get to work on setting you up for your training period and psychological assessment,” a charming girl named Penelope Garcia explained. Gideon had introduced her as the BAU’s technical analyst.

Her office was brightly decorated and she handed Lydia all the information she needed with a huge smile.

“I’m going to be asked to do a thorough background check on you, as well. But that information goes straight to Hotch and Gideon, no one else.”

Lydia chuckled slightly. “I don’t think I have any secrets, but thanks for the warning.”

“Of course!” she replied.

“No secrets?” Gideon asked. “If I remember correctly, you refused to explain anything about yourself that didn’t pertain to the case when I first met you.”

Lydia hesitated slightly. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“What were you trying to hide?” he countered. “If you’re such an open book, you can tell me.”

“I was just angry!” she argued. “It isn’t about hiding, it’s just that after my mom died, I really believed that I was explosive and so I avoid any topics that bring out my stronger emotions. And you were trying to push all my buttons. I was stressed!”

She wasn't sure if Gideon was just an attentive listener or if he was simply interested in her background, but his eyes longed for her to go on. “Explosive?”

“That’s how I got this limp.”

Normally, nothing anyone could say would prompt her to give away more information than necessary. She always tried to excuse it as ‘no one asked’ rather than blatantly avoiding certain topics, but it was pretty obvious to just about anyone she’d met that Lydia was not proud of her past. So whatever it was about Gideon that convinced her to add that comment was something pretty special.

“How?” It was Garcia this time.

The young girl laughed. “When I was 16, I was having some issues and one day I was trying to calm myself down… I often did this by  _ physically  _ getting my energy out so I was punching pillows and throwing things and I kicked something that was heavier than I expected and broke my foot.” She nodded, like she was remembering it fondly, but the other two could tell that it was a cover for her uncomfort. “And then, I was mad because I hadn’t solved my problem and I’d rendered myself useless, so I started walking on it before it was healed. I did dumb shit. I felt like I deserved the pain for being so uncontained and brash. And then the arch of my foot healed wrong and I had to live with a more… permanent reminder of my attitude.”

“Sixteen,” Gideon mumbled. “Is that when your father died?”

Garcia looked shocked that her superior would even say such a thing but Lydia was just intrigued, “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “You said that your only family is your sister. So, I figure both your parents are far out of the picture. You said your mom died when you were little, which triggered your outbursts. So, I figured that perhaps you lost your dad as well and if you were having major anger issues at 16, could be due to the loss of your second parent. Brings up old scars.”

She paused, a somewhat sad smirk gracing her face. “My dad’s not dead, but you’re pretty close. When I was 16, my father was sent to prison.”

Garcia and Gideon’s faces read with immediate regret. So, Lydia played it off quickly.

“Don’t stress about it. He’s not a murderer or anything and it’s not… important.”

She hesitated to explain what he did. She figured they were bound to find out soon enough and she really would rather not say it outloud, so she changed the subject.

“Hey Garcia? Do you think you could help me work on transferring schools? Agent Gideon suggested that I apply for online courses rather than continuing to learn on campus and I’m still not sure if I can reapply for everything so late. And I know your job isn’t navigating college websites or anything, but you are good at tech and I’d love some help.”

She brightened almost immediately. “Sure, sweetheart!”


	3. The Fox (S1E7)

“First case. Are you ready?”

Lydia glanced at Gideon, an eyebrow raising in the process. “Shouldn’t I be? I’ve done two months of preparedness training. And I’m not exactly out in the field.”

He chuckled. “You’re a crime scene investigator. Is that not ‘out in the field’ enough?”

“I just mean: I’m not facing down the bad guys, I don’t carry a gun, I sit and look for fingerprints. Not much to get the adrenaline pumping.”

When she said that, his face turned to a serious one. “I don’t know about that. This case is bad.”

She followed him into a conference room and he nodded for her to sit at a circular table, while he opened a case file and started to pin pictures on the wall. And he wasn’t lying. They were gruesome.

Lydia was accustomed to, if not entirely comfortable with, looking at some horrifying scenes, but it was rare that children were involved in something so violent.

A family, all killed in a dark room. The scene was a bloody one, almost all of them looking to have been stabbed except the father, who was shot through the head.

Elle was the first to join them and greet Lydia, before swiftly disappearing to grab the others on the team and start the case debriefing. Lydia did her best to assess their willingness on her joining the team as each one entered and shook her hand. Morgan seemed genuinely happy to have her and JJ was automatically polite. Reid, however, was harder to… read. He gave her a curt nod and a, ‘Nice to see you again,’ before sitting down.

Gideon and JJ went back and forth describing the case: the Crawford family had been found in their basement. It was set up to look like the father had stabbed his entire family before shooting himself. Which would mean the unsub was dead. However, they had a similar case from a month ago. 

Scratch similar. The  _ exact  _ same case from a month ago. Every detail. Including the assumption that their killer was dead in the house.

And a bonus was the fact that both families were supposed to go on vacation five days before their bodies were discovered, but they’d only been dead for 24 hours.

It was the perfect set up, Lydia realized. She didn’t know what someone would want a whole family for, but this unsub knew how to trap them all at a time when no one would go knocking on their door.

She tried to keep up with them as they spoke, but she was overwhelmed fairly fast. As Morgan and Gideon went over organized and disorganized contributors, JJ introduced a suspect into the pool. A man named Eric Miller, who’s ex-wife and children were part of the first family that was killed and who was just picked up by police after a month of being off the grid… with his kids’s blood on his jacket.

The physical evidence was fairly damning. And he disappeared for a whole month. That didn’t exactly play into his favor. Lucky for her, deciding whether or not he killed them wasn’t her job. She just had to find more evidence.

“Was any of his DNA found at the Crawford house?” Morgan asked.

“No.” Gideon was immersed in the photos he had. He didn’t look up even as he was talking. Lydia was curious what he planned to find in the pictures, but didn’t wish to disturb his thoughts.

“Did he know the Crawfords?” Reid continued.

“If he does, he’s not saying. In fact, he hasn’t said a word since his arrest,” JJ finished, leaning back in her seat. “Uh, the Arlington PD has asked us to interview him,” she told Gideon.

Reid finally picked out Miller’s mugshot and made a sound of disbelief. “If anyone could apply overwhelming force, he’s your man,” he said, catching a small laugh from JJ.

“I want you to find out,” Gideon told him. “Talk to him.”

His demeanor changed almost immediately. “Y-you want me to… talk to him?”

“Yeah. You’ve done interviews before with other agents running point. You can go solo.”

The boy looked at the other faces at the table nervously. Lydia actually enjoyed seeing it from someone so prideful, but she repressed a smile. He didn’t deserve teasing right now, he honestly looked terrified to conduct this interview alone.

“Morgan, Ambers, the Crawford house is a fresh crime scene. Once the Crawfords were brought down to the basement, they must have known their fate.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia’s eyes traced the walls of the stairwell as Gideon led them down to the basement. She wanted to see some signs of distress: a fight or scuffle. But not only were they clean, they were lined with perfectly straight mementos: picture frames, a wreath, two tennis rackets, etc. The family all walked down willingly.

But how do you control an entire family? Who alone has that much power?

“M.E. said they were all killed down here,” Gideon explained.

In the center of the blue carpet was a perfect red circle, which Morgan walked around and towards a separate smear on the washing machine.

“Sam was found here, Emily over there. So… I’m the unsub. How did I do it?”

Morgan flipped through the photos of the bodies, nodding at Gideon’s words. Lydia watched their process, knowing that if she was probably going to investigate quite a few scenes with them like this.

“Well, I had to bring ‘em down here first.”

“How?” Gideon prompted.

He shrugged, his eyes looking between the spots where the bodies were found. “I had a gun.”

“Ok. Use a gun to force them down here. What next?”

“Stab ‘em.”

“Who first?”

“The strongest,” Morgan said. “The father.” He held a photo next to the washing machine. It showed Chris Crawford laying against the machine awkwardly.

Lydia shook her head. “Chris Crawford wasn’t stabbed. He was shot.” She pointed at the smear. “The blood trail there follows his head as he slumped down and died. And there was no other blood on him or around him.”

“Okay.” Morgan rearranged the details in his mind. “Shoot the father, and then stab the mother.” In her photo, Allison Crawford was pale faced, blood dripping from her mouth down her neck and into her gold hair. The unsub had left her in the center of the room.

“How you gonna keep the kids from running away?” Gideon asked

Morgan thought about it a moment. “Restraints. Can’t aim a gun at them and stab the mother at the same time.”

“No restraints were found on the victims.”

“Because I took them with me,” he argued.

“No ligature marks were found.”

This threw Morgan for a loop. He flipped through all the photos in his folder, looking up at the locations in each photo.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Gideon offered. “See how they lived.”

Lydia took one final look at each of the blood pools on the floor. A five year old boy and eight year old girl. Had they really sat there and watched someone kill their parents in the middle of their basement?

~ ~ ~

“The yard is overgrown,” Gideon observed. “And like the roof, Chris Crawford’s car is in need of maintenance, but Allison Crawford’s SUV is in pristine condition.”

“Says here that Allison drove the kids to school. If they were educated privately, maybe the car was just an attempt to show the other parents wealth,” Morgan reasoned.

Lydia sighed. “Adds up to the rest of the house.”

“Rest of the house?” Gideon asked.

She gestured to the living room table. “These magazines are clearly placed. No one finishes reading a magazine and then places it into a perfect fan shape so that the title is showing. They’re designer names. And I don’t see any other magazines in the house, so likely, they were trying to fake subscriptions to high end magazines they don’t have.”

Gideon smirked. “Expensive furniture and a plasma screen TV. Behind the curtains: water damage,” he said, adding to Lydia’s statement. “Allison spent money on the things her friends could see and neglected those they couldn’t.”

“ _ You _ saw the water damage,” Lydia argued, and Morgan went to confirm the accusation.

“The Crawford’s lived beyond their means,” Gideon continued, ignoring her comment.

“So, where’d the extra cash come from?” Morgan demanded.

“Get Garcia to check their financial status,” he instructed and disappeared into the kitchen.

Morgan nodded for Lydia to follow Gideon as he turned on his phone to make a call.

“Emily,” Gideon whispered, pulling a painting off the refrigerator, then turning it towards her. It was a house, painted entirely black. At the bottom, signed in sloppy, capital letters was the Crawford’s daughter’s name, Emily. “This painting is of this house. Strange that, for a child, it has no color. Has lines, dimensions, but no color.”

“Was there any indication that Emily had some kind of mental disability?”

Gideon’s brow furrowed. “No. Why?”

Lydia waved away his confusion with a flick of her hand. “Nothing. It would just explain her dedication to realism over classic, childish fun. I can search her room for anything else to indicate she would paint something like that?”

Gideon nodded and she left, jogging upstairs and immediately finding a door with Emily’s name on it.

The room was more than enough evidence that the painting downstairs was not typical of Emily. If her bright personality didn’t shine through her colorfully decorated walls and sparkly clothing, her collection of paintings did. This girl obviously had many different colored paints and she used them.

Lydia sifted through a couple of pictures on her desk until shouting from downstairs distracted her.

“ _ Help me! Help! Please! HELP ME!!! No! NO!!! Please, no! _ ”

Lydia could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she leapt down the stairs and found Gideon shrieking out of a window, a very startled Morgan watching him.

“ _ NOOOOO! _ ”

Morgan glanced at Lydia when she fumbled into the room, but he didn’t look concerned for Gideon. If he was, he likely would have interrupted this far sooner. But he definitely didn’t know what was going on.

His yells only lasted about a minute, before he went completely silent, not moving from his spot in front of the window. The other two held their breath in anticipation of an explanation, but he stayed there until a light came on in the house across the street. Then another. A dog down the street erupted into howls at the disturbance.

That’s when he turned around. “Why didn’t anyone hear them scream?”

Morgan looked out the window once more, to see the concerned neighbors rushing outside or opening their windows. And just like that, Gideon was off again to another part of the house.

“Shit,” Lydia mumbled. “I guess that’s one way to make a point.”

~ ~ ~

Before she knew it, she was back at headquarters. The case was close enough that they set up their evidence boards in the conference room so they didn’t have to impose on a police station. Hopefully she’d stay there for the rest of the case, knowing that she’d only be asked to leave again if another crime scene appeared. But, she was at a loss right now with what little evidence she had. A kid’s painting that didn’t match the others? And proof that someone was able to control and keep silent a whole family of four in their house for four days? She had no clue how this all formed into a profile that Gideon claimed he’d already started.

“I believe the unsub had control over this family,” he started. Everyone except Hotch, who was in Garcia’s office trying to make sense of the false wealth lead, sat around the round table, watching Gideon piece together his theory. “He may have separated each family member. He tells the mother, ‘If you scream, I’ll kill your children.’ He tells the children, ‘If you cry, I’ll kill mommy.’

“The suspect found a way of restraining them without leaving marks. Based on lividity, the M.E. estimates that the father was the last to die.”

“Which means he witnessed the whole thing,” Morgan added. “If the unsub  _ did  _ spend time with both families, he must’ve known he had the time to spend with ‘em.”

“‘Cause he knew they were going on vacation,” Reid reasoned.

“Look at travel agents, relatives, work colleagues, contract workers, children’s tutors-” Gideon was interrupted by Hotch’s voice over the intercom in the center of the conference room.

“ _ Gideon, we’ve been looking into the Crawford financials _ .”

Garcia’s voice stepped in to explain. “ _ Allison Crawford spent way more money than Chris could afford. They were in major debt _ .”

“ _ And Chris Crawford wrote a number of checks for a series of visits to a therapist _ .”

This wasn’t surprising news, although it didn’t give them anything. There still wasn’t any shady business in either household.

“ _ Allison had two cell phone accounts… one of them billed to a separate address in southeast Washington, D.C. _ ”

Everyone perked up, quickly taking note of this new discovery.

“ _ Did you get that? _ ” Hotch asked.

“Yeah, I got it,” Gideon sighed. “Ambers, stay here. The rest of you, let’s go.”

~ ~ ~

When the team got back, they were taking a man in for questioning. Lydia followed them to the interrogation room hesitantly. Gideon had said that they were looking for a smaller man in stature and this guy was anything but. He was awkward and nervous, sitting with Gideon and Morgan while the rest of the team looked on from the other side of the double-sided mirror.

As she watched the interrogation go down, Lydia took mental notes of everything she could on this man:

Frank Fielding. Unconfrontational. Attached to the painting Gideon was holding. Right-handed. Sweaty. Manic-depressive. On medication. Nervous stutter. Guilty conscious. Calls Allison Crawford ‘Ally’... 

‘Cause he was her brother.

Lydia could see Gideon and Morgan losing their assurance that this was their guy as Frank started to cry over the loss of his sister. His sadness then turned to anger and he started to blame Chris for killing his family.

“The rule was-- I was never supposed to go to the house,” Frank explained. “That was the only rule.”

Allison Crawford used money her husband didn’t have and was embarrassed by her mentally ill brother. That gave two men in her life motive, but not enough to kill a different family.

He explained how Chris hated him and how his phone was cut off and that was the reason for his visit. That led to another small burst of anger. He began banging his fists against the table and Gideon moved away.

“There’s no way this guy could’ve gotten into the house without a key,” Elle reasoned, shoulder-to-shoulder with Hotch, directly in front of the glass. She was right. He was tall, large, and clumsy. Not exactly prime ninja material. “Knowing how Chris Crawford felt about his brother-in-law, do you see him having one?”

“No,” the unit chief replied.

They sat there for a few more minutes, listening to Frank explain his visit to the Crawford house and seeing his sister and a stranger at the table. As he spoke the words out loud, he seemed to figure out what they were all thinking. This stranger was the unsub.

Gideon and Morgan tried to calm him, but Frank started to freak at the thought, banging his fists against his head and shouting. They were quick to jump into action, pushing him against the wall and holding back his hands. Hotch, Elle, and Reid all ran in to help, but Lydia stayed behind, just staring at the prescription pill bottles he had discarded across the table.

She hated those things.

~ ~ ~

“He’s been looking at those pictures all morning,” Elle mumbled over her cup of coffee, in reference to Gideon. Morgan was just hanging up a call and Reid was at his desk, looking over something.

“Well, I sure hope he sees a connection,” Morgan replied. “‘Cause I’ve checked doctors, lawyers, travel agents, tutors, contract workers. I’ve got nothing.”

“Why target those families?” Elle asked.

Hotch walked past as she said this, his nose in a file. “Well, to know that, we have to know how.”

“All right,” Morgan started, pulling the attention of the whole team. “We know organized killers are often skilled workers with above-average intelligence. High birth status. And in most cases, male. In the workplace, he’s socially confident. And with women, sexually confident. Every offense is preplanned. Targeting the victim is almost as pleasurable as the actual kill. These guys they’re… they’re meticulous. It’s a compulsion. Everything has to have its proper place.”

He was winding up, beginning to pace around the bullpen as he formulated his profile.

“They do exhaustive amounts of research on their victims. They watch their every move, every last detail is observed. Everything has to be written ever so neatly in a book or possibly a journal. Like, when the kids are coming home from school and when daddy’ll be home. Playtime. Suppertime. Bathtime. Bedtime. Plan the work… work the plan. This is the way that he maintains control.

“He takes great pride in his job. I think the workplace has to be the connection.”

Hotch looked like he wanted to say something, but for the first time that morning, Gideon emerged from the conference room, holding up the two paintings from Emily that he’d collected.

“Both are by Emily. Painted months apart. This one… is full of color, life,” he explained, holding up the framed photo from Frank Fielding’s house. “The one I found at Emily’s house has lines, dimensions. No color. Ambers, you said you saw other ones in her room?”

Lydia’s eyebrows knit together. “Yeah. She had all sorts of paintings: fields, trees, stick figures, other kid stuff. I think the only color she didn’t use was black.”

He nodded, assuring her that she was confirming his thinking. “I believe Emily was coerced to paint this. It’s a point of view. It is  _ his _ point of view. This is where the killer stood and just watched the family.”

“What does he get out of making them paint the house?” Lydia asked, but she was interrupted by Hotch dropping his wedding ring onto Elle’s desk.

They all stared for a moment as it spun, fell flat, and Hotch put it back onto his finger. “Each of the dead husbands was missing his wedding ring. This is the unsub’s trophy. He targets a family because he lost his own, and for a few days, he gets to play daddy.”

“And he can do whatever he wants because no one’s gonna come looking because they’re supposed to be on vacation,” Morgan continued.

“Ambers, I want you to go to forensics and have them check the inside of Chris Crawford’s clothing,” Gideon instructed. “The suspect may have worn the father’s clothes, too. Complete the fantasy.”

She nodded.

“So, why kill them?” Elle asked.

“Because the fantasy can’t last,” Gideon reasoned.

“Do we know anything that actually helps us identify this bastard?” she demanded.

Lydia could tell she was getting more frustrated by the minute. She wondered briefly if Elle was naturally impatient.

“Wait a minute,” Morgan mumbled. “Chris Crawford worked for the I.R.S. and… Reese Miller was a secretary at the GAO.”

Elle sat forward. “That makes them both government employees.”

The team was already halfway out of their seats. Gideon reminded Lydia to head to forensics as soon as possible, before grabbing a file and leading the team to the elevator.

~ ~ ~

“Hey Garcia,” Lydia called as she walked into her office. “I just got off the phone with Gideon. He…” she paused, startled to find another presence in the room. “Dr. Reid, I’m sorry.”

He somehow seemed just as shocked to see her there. “Oh… hey, Lydia.”

The fear in his eyes made her suspect that she had walked in on something, but Garcia was completely unaffected. “What’s up with Gideon?” she asked, pulling Lydia’s attention back to her.

“Right. Both the Crawford’s and Reese Miller were seeing a therapist. He thinks that might be the connection.”

She nodded and began typing at a furious rate.

“Any luck in forensics?” Reid inquired.

Lydia shook her head. “No foreign DNA was found on the clothing in evidence. My guess is he washed everything before he left.”

“Here we are. The Crawfords made 12 weekly payments to the Applewood Family Medical Center,” Garcia interrupted.

“What about the Millers?” Reid asked, leaning over her shoulder to get a good look at the screen.

“No, nothing here.”

“How about pharmaceuticals? Nobody gets therapy these days without a healthy dose of medication.”

“What are you implying, Reid?”

“That everyone is medicated.”

Garcia stopped and looked up at the boy, shocked. “Did you just make a joke?”

“No,” he replied. “I meant statistics. They- They show that-”

She laughed and cut him off. “Reid, next time, just say yes, okay?”

He glanced at Lydia, like she might be able to explain it to him and she couldn’t hide the grin creeping on her face. He was somewhat of a goofball. Far different from the silent, stoic figure that she’d met in Santa Cruz.

“Now, medication normally requires reimbursement from the HMO, and since she works for the government, like you and I, we share the same healthcare provider.”

  
Reid raised an eyebrow. “Are you hacking into the government’s HMO database? Is that legal?”

“‘Course not. We’ll all go to prison, you’ll be someone’s bitch, and Lydia will become a hustler.”

“Oh, hell yes!” Lydia cried and he grimaced.

“Really?”

But Garcia was already onto the next topic. “Oh. Right there. Good call, Reid,” she complimented as a new page popped up on her screen. “Mrs. Reese Miller-- Diazepam.”

“Who prescribed the meds?” he asked.

“Dr. R. Howard at the Applewood Family Center. Let’s find out what he looks like. Here we go.” She did some more typing and a photo of a ginger woman popped up on the screen. “... Dr. Howard isn’t a he.”

“That doesn’t add up. She fits the description, but Fielding said he saw a man.” Lydia pulled out her phone and dialed Gideon’s number right away. “Hey Gideon? Yeah, Garcia’s got a Dr. Rachel Howard at the Applewood Family Medical Center? Small woman, orange hair, and she prescribed Reese Miller anxiety meds. It’s the same facility that the Crawfords went to family therapy at.”

He made a sound of understanding and hung up.

“Oh, Lydia?” Garcia started again. “I sent an email to an administrator at a nearby university about you starting online courses.”

“ _ What?! _ ” She leapt forward and ran to the girl’s side. “You didn’t have to do that! What did you say?”

“I told them I’d hack their site and frame them for stealing from their students if they didn’t admit you immediately,” she joked.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Oh great. Thanks, Garcia.”

“No, silly! I just told them how brilliant you are and your plan to transfer to online classes while you worked for the FBI and I sent them your transcript-”

“Garcia! Where’d you even get that?”

“I thought you’d already graduated, Lydia,” Spencer spoke up.

She shrugged. “I got my undergraduate, but I had already applied to start getting my master’s degree when Gideon offered me this job. I guess experience might mean I don’t need it anymore, but I didn’t want to just drop out of school, so Garcia was helping me try and transfer to an online school so I could continue my education.”

“Do you plan to get a PhD?” he inquired.

Garcia gasped, suddenly. “Oo, you totally should. Then we’ll have another ‘Dr.’ on the team to compete with boy genius.”

Lydia laughed. “I’m not sure I could survive that. And I’m not sure anyone could compete with boy genius. I wouldn’t know what to do with it. I mean, people with a doctorate tend to become college professors and do extensive research in their fields… I just want to look over crime scenes and work in a lab. The master’s degree was truly just to help me widen my options… and because I didn’t have anywhere else to go after graduation.”

“You know, a lot of agents become professors after they retire,” Reid explained.

“Not an agent-” Lydia tried to argue, but Garcia was getting excited again.

“Oo! Oo! Dr. Ambers! Tell me that’s not the coolest name!” she exclaimed.

Lydia smiled at her and Reid was suddenly reminded of something that happened back in California, when they had met.

“Hey, you didn’t flinch.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“You have everyone call you Lydia. Because when Gideon called you ‘Miss’, you reacted badly. But you didn’t flinch when she called you  _ Dr _ . Ambers.”

Lydia was speechless. She had never liked to be called by her last name, she knew that much to be true, but he was right, she hadn’t minded the new title. And now that she was thinking about it, the first few times Gideon called her ‘Ambers’, she’d been unsure, but she’d started to answer to it without hesitation. 

But how had Reid noticed?  _ She’d  _ barely noticed.

“You don’t like to be called Miss Ambers?” Garcia interrupted her thoughts, causing her to startle. “Oh, you’re right, Reid. She did flinch.”

“I don’t-” she started to complain, but stopped herself. “Listen, I don’t think changing my title is reason enough to get a PhD. And I don’t have the money. My student debt is crazy and if I don’t get a full time job as soon as I get my master’s, there’s no way I’ll pay it off.”

“Oh, I can help you cut down the amount of time it takes. I had 3 PhDs by the time I was 21.”

Lydia turned on Reid with a look of utter shock. “Three?  _ Three?!  _ Reid, I know you’ve got your memory going for you, but that doesn’t even sound possible.”

He smiled, his lip curling in as if to hide his satisfaction. She could see a small blush grace his cheeks. “It is possible. For you, too. I’d be happy to help you get your doctorate… if that’s what you want.”

Lydia glanced between the two before her. They both seemed extremely excited by the prospect, which she couldn’t deny would be an awesome thing to accomplish. But time and money weren’t exactly things she could spare.

“I’ll consider it,” she agreed.

~ ~ ~

A little while later, Gideon sent Lydia on another errand, calling her to tell her to go to the medical center herself and help Hotch search for the trophies of the suspect they had taken into custody: Karl Arnold.

A CSI team had searched Karl’s house, and decided it was clear, which meant he likely kept his trophies in his office. And since Lydia was supposed to be the team expert on searching for things out of place, she hopped into one of the team's SUVs and drove herself to meet up with Hotch.

He was already well on his way through the office when she got there, every drawer and box open and many miscellaneous objects lying around. He started throwing books off a bookshelf and she ran over to join him.

He was starting to get really frustrated. He was muttering to himself, wondering how hard the crime scene investigators had searched the house, because there was clearly nothing here. Once all the shelves had been clear, he stepped back, still huffing.

Lydia eyes searched for other places around the room that could fit the missing wedding rings and quickly shushed Hotch, holding up her hands to make her point. He looked somewhat surprised at her command, but did as she said, and she went to work, knocking on the wall along each shelf. It had almost gotten too high for her to reach when a hollow knock could be heard.

She ran her fingers along the edges, searching for a lip or hinge that might open up to the other side. The top board seemed weakest, so she dug her nails into the top and yanked it free. With that one out of the way, the two below it were far easier to pull the nails from the wall and Hotch was quick to step in front of her and assess the items he’d hidden.

There was a tangle of belts, a stack of black, hardcover books, and a metal container, colored brightly, like an old music box.

Hotch went for this, pulling it down from the shelf and opening it carefully. While he did this, Lydia looked over the books. Each one was labeled with a name, but the horrifying bit was the amount that he had collected.

The team had assumed that he picked his victims one at a time, did his research, then killed them, but he had so many families hidden here. Lydia wondered how long he might have been stalking these people without their knowledge, but Hotch brought the box to her attention.

She turned and felt sick. The container he was holding had eight wedding rings in it, all masculine. She flipped around to look at the journals again and was overwhelmed by the realization that these weren’t families he was stalking, he’d already killed them.

He’d been doing this for far longer than they’d suspected.

“Congrats,” Hotch said. It was the first time he’d spoken to her since she got there. “You just solved your first case.”


	4. The Popular Kids (S1E10)

A few weeks later, Lydia was woken by a call from her sister. She did her best not to sound shocked as she picked up, but Rebecca always seemed to know what she was thinking. Lydia considered herself a very good liar until Beck was around.

“Hey Beck, how have you been?”

“ _ I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, okay? _ ” Right out of that gate, she was pissed. But Lydia felt some relief to know that she wasn’t calling because something was wrong. “ _ You know that I’m just frustrated you left again. _ ”

“I know,” she replied. “How’s school?”

She could hear her sister huff on the other side. “ _ Boring. I don’t see what mom expects me to learn there. _ ”

Lydia grimaced slightly when Rebecca said ‘mom’, but quickly recovered.

“College is good for you. It’ll help you figure out what you want to do.”

“ _ You know how often I change my mind. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to just… decide my whole future. And if school didn’t help me the first 12 years, what’s another four going to do? _ ”

“You have more freedom in college,” Lydia reasoned, but it was just more fuel to the fire.

“ _ Which you obviously took and ran with _ ,” she grumbled.

“Beck, I went to Santa Cruz. That’s barely an hour away.”

“ _ Yeah. And then as soon as I thought I was getting you back, you hopped on a plane to DC. And I wanted to follow you, but mom keeps insisting that I go to community college first _ .”

“Sonia is just trying to look out for you,” Lydia explained. “I mean, what are you going to do when you get here? Have me take care of you?”

The other end was silent for a minute. Lydia felt guilty, knowing that implying her sister was a burden really wasn’t the best way to handle this situation, but Rebecca sometimes forgot that if she wasn’t making money for herself, someone else was.

“ _ When will you be back? _ ” she demanded.

“I don’t know. I’m going to try to keep this job as long as I can and after that I’m going to go where the work takes me. But I’ll come visit as soon as I can…”

As she spoke, her phone vibrated against her ear and she pulled away to see a message from Gideon.

_ Round table room in 20. Bring a go bag. _

She sighed. “Beck, I have to go. My boss just texted me. Tell Sonia I miss her!”

Her sister was quiet for a minute, before snapping, “ _ That job is going to suck the life out of you _ ,” and hanging up.

Lydia shut her eyes tightly, counting the seconds between breaths. “I love you,” she whispered into the unresponsive phone.

~ ~ ~

“McAllister,” JJ started as Lydia rushed in, stepping up next to Gideon. “Western slope of the Massanutten mountain in Virginia. Two bodies discovered in the woods, both with apparent blunt trauma to the head.”

“Skeletons?” Reid asked as he looked over the photos in his case file.

“One of them. The second victim was just killed this morning.”

“How do we know there’s a connection?” Elle asked.

“Found about 75 feet apart with nearly identical head wounds,” Hotch explained.

Lydia shook her head slightly, still looking at the details over Gideon’s shoulder. Forest is an open area and the victims didn’t look like they’d been tied there. How could someone plan to hit both of them in the same spot over the head, when the victims were in open space and could move easily? That was difficult.

“Where’s the rest of the case file?” Morgan demanded.

“There isn’t one. The sheriffs are on the scene waiting for us.”

“Their location is only a half hour away by plane,” JJ explained for Hotch.

“What’s the rush?” Morgan continued.

“Well, there was evidence on the scene that could cause a bit of public uproar.”

As Hotch said this, Gideon picked up a picture for Lydia to see. Someone had carved a pentagram into a tree with the words ‘SATAN LIVES LOD’ underneath it. They were filled in with a red liquid, but Lydia highly doubted it was blood. It was too bright. Blood would be absorbed pretty quickly by the bark and definitely leave a dark stain. It was likely just paint.

“Satanic cult,” Gideon mumbled, dropping the photo onto the table for the rest of the room to see.

Hotch was obviously unimpressed. “Grab your stuff. We leave now.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia looked around curiously as they boarded the jet. It looked nice, but Lydia didn’t have much experience with flying, much less private jets. Gideon gestured for her to sit across from him, which she quickly did, noticing the rest of the team's hustle to get on the plane and take off.

Gideon gave her what she could only call his ‘profiling’ look as she got into her seat.

“What?” she started, calmly.

“You were almost late to the meeting,” he stated and she scoffed.

“You didn’t give me much notice.”

“Your apartment’s not far.”

“Well, public transportation’s a bitch,” she argued.

This was a game to him. Profiling people was his job, but getting them to come clean was an added bonus. He knew Lydia was busy when he texted her, otherwise she wouldn’t seem so distracted. Trying to get into her head and figure out what it was was fun for him. But Lydia was ready to play.

“Do you know anything about satanism?” he asked, veering from their previous topic.

She shook her head. “You think this is a satanist?”

“You don’t?”

Lydia smiled at him. He was good at opening up the floor for other people to discuss. “It feels planted to me. Blunt force head trauma is usually an extremely… violent way of commiting a murder. One hit wouldn’t be enough to ensure death. And they were killed out in an open space so I doubt the unsub had a lot of control over where they hit them. Identical wounds? That’s impressive.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t satanism,” he argued.

“No, but they wrote the message in red, usually meaning they want to pass it off as blood, but this…” she held up the picture “...is not blood. Who puts fake blood by a non-bloody victim?”

“I’m sure the victim was bloody when they put the message up,” Morgan said, Lydia turned to where he was seated.

“Well, I’m no profiler, but if these killings were supposed to be a message about worshipping Satan, why wait so long after the first person wasn’t noticed to kill another?”

He seemed to think about this for a moment. “Touche, Lydia.”

She smiled and turned back to Gideon. “Again, that doesn’t indicate whether or not it’s satanism, but…” she trailed off, letting him consider the suspicious circumstances.

“Try to keep an open mind when examining the crime scene,” he warned her, to which she agreed.

“Total blank slate,” she joked.

And her heart lifted at the sight of Gideon’s amused smile.

~ ~ ~

Lydia had already started pulling on her latex gloves as she followed Gideon off the path and towards the skeletal body. Reid and JJ were close behind them, trying not to slip on the steep ground or piles of leaves.

The body was surrounded by branches, arching over it ceremoniously. Lydia made a quick mental note to ask if one of the sheriffs had cut away the trees or if they’d found it like that.

“Mornin’,” a man called, approaching the group. He had on a blue deputy’s jacket and a gold badge. “John Bridges.”

“Yeah, we spoke on the phone. I’m Agent Jareau, this is Agent Gideon, Dr. Reid, and our crime scene analyst, Lydia Ambers, with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.” JJ recited the greeting so fast Lydia barely heard it. She couldn’t imagine the practice JJ had with introductions.

Lydia ignored the group as they continued speaking to the sheriff and started to examine the remains. She tried not to act surprised as she felt the presence of Dr. Reid leaning over her shoulder, making notes as well.

The clothes were torn and faded, but they hadn’t completely decomposed. Judging by how thin the fabric was, she would have given it a couple years before disappearing, meaning the body might not have been left that long ago. Maybe even less than a year. No wedding ring, but those are easily stolen.

“You guys must get a lot of this, huh? Satanic stuff?”

“Not really,” Gideon mumbled. “Who found the body?”

“Hiker found the first one at the trail,” Sheriff Bridges explained. “My deputies located this one while searching for evidence. Don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman.”

“It’s a man-” Lydia said at the same time as Reid. They both looked surprised for a moment and she gestured for him to keep explaining while she searched for more.

“The male pelvis is more narrow, and the opening at the bottom is heart-shaped, as opposed to oval,” he continued. He then picked up a stick, seeing as he didn’t have gloves, and poked at a weird substance at the bottom of the tree. “Melted wax?”

“Candle wax?” JJ inquired.

Lydia peeled a piece away, rolled it around in her fingers, and hesitantly smelled it.

“Candles are used in rituals,” Reid prompted, but Lydia shook her head.

“This was recent. Colored wax fades over time and some kinds of wax rot. This body is not anywhere near that fresh. If there was a ritual here, it wasn’t a killing.” She dropped the piece she had collected, rubbing the red flecks from her fingers. She looked up at the sheriff. “Did you have to move these branches when you found the body?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. It was buried down there.”

“I thought I told you not to be biased,” Gideon scolded.

“I’m not,” Lydia defended. “But this feels… placed.”

“Explain your reasoning,” he challenged.

She crossed her arms, standing up to meet his eyes. “The recent body was found on a hiking trail. That’s basically begging for someone to find it. This one was secluded and basically buried by the other trees. Possibly to hide it, which would make more sense for satanists, or because it’s been here so long that the elements grew around it. Both would indicate a different killer. Then, there’s the fact that the wax is new and was probably left after the second killing, not the first, so why leave it by the first body? And, as I said about the carving in the tree, if that was a message, they wouldn’t have waited for so long between kills and if it’s just part of the ritual, we would’ve found another one by the other body.”

He raised his eyebrow and Lydia waited for someone to argue with her, but he simply said, “Not bad.”

She let go of a tension she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Does L-O-D mean anything to you?” he asked Reid.

“Uh-uh,” he denied. “I don’t know of any significance in satanism, either.”

“Well, I’d have Garcia research this ‘LOD’ thing, if I could get a call out,” JJ admitted, frustrated.

“Not much of a chance of that out here,” Sheriff Bridges informed her.

“Are there any cults in the area that you know about?” Gideon asked. “Secret groups? People you see you don’t know much about? People who stay to themselves mostly?”

“This is a very religious area. Church on Sundays, fellowship of Wednesday, bible classes. If there was a secret group, I’d probably know about it.”

This made Reid laugh, and a cute smile tugged at his cheeks. “That’s an inherent contradiction.”

“Excuse me?”

Gideon stepped in. “He means if there was a group being secretive, you probably  _ wouldn’t  _ know.”

Sheriff didn’t take that one too well, but Gideon listened patiently as he argued that it couldn’t be someone from his town. Then, he instructed them to head back up to the trail where the other body was found.

“Find anything interesting down there?” Hotch asked as the four of them approached.

“Yeah, it does look like some kind of ritual site,” Gideon admitted. “Although Ambers has got some theories to suggest otherwise.”

The unit chief looked hesitant, but decided not to ask about them.

“Have any of you heard the expression ‘lod’ or the acronym L-O-D?” Reid asked as Elle helped him up the hill.

“Not me,” Elle responded and Morgan looked like he was about to agree before the whole team was distracted by a woman shouting.

“Cherish?” she cried, running up the hill. “ _ Cherish? _ ”

She was blonde and in her mid-forties. She was clearly distraught, trying to walk straight onto the scene, but the deputy held her back.

“Sheriff Bridges!” she shouted, still trying to push past the deputy.

“It’s okay, Harris. Let her in,” the sheriff said.

“Was Adam Loyd killed out here?” she demanded as she ducked the yellow tape.

“Who told you that, Veronica?”

“ _ Was he? _ ” she tried again. The sheriff tried to calm her, but she just interrupted him. “My daughter was with him. They were out running together this morning. Oh my god, and I can’t find her,” she started to ramble. “Cherish is missing. Cherish is missing! _ Help me, please! _ ”

And finally, she broke down into sobs.

~ ~ ~

“What’s the protocol for murder turned missing persons case?” Lydia inquired as she followed Gideon around the trail.

“Well, you were right about one thing,” Gideon replied. “It’s not ritual satanism. We’ll build our profile after the search, but it’s starting to look like a killer cult.”

“Multiple unsubs. Easier to kill the guy and kidnap the girl. You think these people were targeted?”

“It’s possible. Cults aren’t usually prone to crimes of opportunity. They normally kill people as part of their message.”

“So, are the carvings and wax part of their message or are they trying to throw us off the scent?”

“Guess we’ll find out when we have more evidence,” he retorted. “Hey Hotch!”

They’d looped back to the site and Gideon immediately made a beeline for Agent Hotchner. Lydia was a few steps behind and missed whatever Gideon had said to him, but she could see his disapproval.

“Gideon,” he warned. “We talked about this.”

She caught up, standing next to her mentor.

“Ambers, you’ll be with Gideon during the search. Make sure the exercise doesn’t kill him.”

She smiled. “Yes, sir.”

Once he was gone and she was alone with Gideon once more, she turned on him. “What was that about?”

“I got into trouble after your first case,” he admitted. “The condition was that I would be in charge of you and make sure you weren’t making the FBI look bad.”

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No. But I’m not supposed to let you go off on your own. During your first case, I put you in charge of going down to forensics and looking for DNA while none of the team was present and then I let you take a vehicle by yourself to work with Hotch. You did good work,” he promised her, “but if something goes wrong, Hotch’s ass is on the line, just as much as mine or yours is.”

“I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “This is by no means your fault. I just want to give you more opportunities to work with the things you’re good at instead of following me around like a lost dog. My goal is to get our boss to realize you’re an asset to the team, but how am I supposed to do that if you aren’t allowed to make calls sometimes?”

“An asset…?” she asked. “Gideon, I’m just a forensic scientist. Barely that, I’m a crime scene technician. My job is to pick up things that look weird and put them in bags.”

“But you could do so much more,” he argued. “You were a chemistry major. You were at the same level as Reid down there and he’s got 3 PhDs. At the Crawford house on our last case, you were setting up the victimology with us. And like you said, that’s not your job. You record evidence, you don’t analyze it. Especially not in a big picture scenario. But today, you looked at the few photos we had and already determined that ritual killing didn’t make sense. I think you’re a wonderful addition to the team.”

Lydia tried to shake her head with disagreement, but another thought came to mind. “What did you just ask Hotch, then?”

“I wanted you to be in charge of one of the search parties.”

She laughed. “Really? What good would that do?”

“The more groups, the less people for each of us to profile. I thought we could trust you with it, but Hotch is still unsure.”

“No kidding. Gideon, I’m an intern. I appreciate the thought, but I really am okay with just… learning from you. Going to the scene and bagging the things you tell me to.”

Gideon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re too smart to be quiet for that long. You’d break sooner or later and begin to explain your theories. Might as well just let you get it out from the start.”

“Maybe that’s best,” she agreed. “But I know I’m not an agent. Feel free to tell me if I step out of line.”

“Do you want to be an agent?” he inquired.

“I just wanna look at crime scenes,” she explained, failing not to smile. “I don’t need the gun or the badge. I doubt I’d be any good at being an agent. Not that I’d flat out deny the opportunity, but it’s not exactly my dream.”

“Well, I think you’d be a good interrogator.”

This was news to her. “What?! I’m not exactly intimidating.”

“No, but interrogating suspects can go many ways. It’s all just a show. Sometimes we want an unsub to be so comfortable they forget they’re being watched and they slip up. Sometimes we want to put them on edge and make them think that confessing is the best option. And you’re a good actor from what I’ve seen.”

“What have you seen?” she challenged.

“To start, you claim that you hide your anger issues very well.”

She nodded.

“And you still won’t tell me what you were up to this morning when I texted you.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why you care! It didn’t make me late and it hasn’t affected the case!”

“When Garcia told you she was going to do a background check on you, you said you didn’t have any secrets,” he responded.

“Fine. I was on a call with my sister. That’s all. Now tell me why it matters to you!”

This put a stop to the pace of their conversation. He gave her his profiling look for the second time that day and said, “It went bad, huh?”

“My sister and I always seem to be at each other’s necks… it went as well as I suspected.”

Gideon swallowed. “I ask because I care about you, Lydia. Tell me about your sister.”

Her breath hitched. He wanted to just… talk now? Gideon had just decided to be her friend?

She felt guilty for questioning his motives, but the suspicious nature in her won. “We can talk about my family when we aren’t working a case.”

He didn’t seem surprised by her answer, but as he left, she noticed that he was definitely disappointed.

~ ~ ~

Lydia sighed, looking over the note Elle had brought in after the search had wrapped up. She dusted it for fingerprints, but the thing was such a mess, having been written in charcoal, that if there were any, they would have been smeared beyond belief.

The corner was covered in blood, which Lydia would have tested, if it weren’t for the fact that the note claimed Cherish Hanson, their missing victim, would be sacrificed that evening. The team didn’t have time for her to take it to a lab and if they did, it would mean pulling Gideon from work to monitor her… she was starting to see why he thought this mentoring thing was frustrating.

So, she sat in the station and listened to them give a profile while she mindlessly looked over the photos and evidence they had to see if she got any brilliant ideas.

Sheriff Bridges’s son, Cory, was present for the profile, although Lydia wasn’t entirely sure why, and as the team finished up their description of the unsub, he was the first to speak up, admitting that he knew someone who fit the profile.

They wrapped up the meeting and took Cory to a private room to discuss the kid he thought was responsible. It hadn’t even been five minutes before the team was filing back out, and towards the door of the station.

“Drop what you’re doing, Ambers,” Gideon ordered.

She jumped up, running out of the station behind them. “What’s going on?”

“Kid named Mike Zizzo. He’s got a place where his group, the ‘Lord’s of Destruction’, hang out. We’re going to raid it, once we’ve got the teenagers cleared, I want you to sweep for evidence.”

“Got it.”

Gideon let her slide into an SUV with Hotch, Morgan, and Reid, before closing the door behind her, shutting himself out. “I’m not going on the raid.”

Hotch stuck his head out of the open window. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know, yet,” Gideon replied and walked off. He was following a girl. A high schooler who had been at the search with them.

“Gideon, you can’t just-” he started and Lydia saw him glance at her in the rearview mirror. She knew for a fact that if she hadn’t been there, Hotch would have let him do whatever he pleased. But Gideon was gone.

Frustrated, Hotch rolled up the window and drove off.

Lydia hoped it wasn’t her. In fact, she knew it wasn’t her. Hotch was very rule-oriented and Gideon was putting him on edge. But she felt so bad.

“Sorry that you’re stuck babysitting me,” she mumbled as they hit the road.

Reid glanced at Lydia and Morgan turned to Hotch, both of them unsure what interaction had just taken place. For the second time, Lydia made eye contact with the unit chief in his mirror.

“What did Gideon tell you?” he sighed, guilt evident in his voice.

“That we were getting you in trouble.” Lydia made her voice as light as possible so that Hotch knew she wasn’t totally serious, but she felt weird bringing it up around the others. She wasn’t sure how close they all were yet. Maybe if she spoke about the tension between Hotch and Gideon right now it would spread around the office like a fire and Hotch would be dealing with rumors on top of everything else.

“I’m going to be honest, Lydia,” he said, automatically making her nervous. “I like you. I think you’re very talented. But I’m starting to wonder if you’ve got some kind of spell on Gideon, because he takes every opportunity to insist that I should demand that Strauss give you a full-time job and I… I don’t know you that well yet.”

“That’s totally fine,” she told him. “I don’t…  _ need  _ a job. I promise I had no idea he even wanted me on the team until today.”

“Dang Hotch,” Morgan spoke up. “Did you really think Lydia was manipulating Gideon? I doubt she’s capable of it.” He turned around from the passenger’s seat and gave her a smile.

“Thanks? But I get it. It’s not ‘cause he doesn’t like me… I mean, I hope not,” she joked. “I’m just… more trouble than I’m worth.”

“I think Gideon’s right.” It was Spencer this time. “You’d be a good addition to the team.”

She sent him a smile, but he wasn’t looking directly at her, so she had to wonder if he saw it.

“We’ll talk about it if she doesn’t get me fired before the end of the year,” Hotch agreed, pulling up to an old house and parking outside. There were clearly a lot of people inside, music was blasting and their shadows haunted the windows. “Stay in the car until I give you the okay to enter the building,” he instructed, turning around to look directly at Lydia.

“Yes, sir.”

The two younger agents started to hop out, guns at their sides, leaving her alone with Hotch.

“Thank you for being understanding,” he said softly, then jumped out of the car himself.

Lydia leaned back against the car seat. He didn’t hate her. And Morgan and Reid didn’t argue about her joining the team officially either. It was immensely relieving. But her relaxed state quickly retreated as she reminded herself not to get her hopes up.

The commotion in the house took a few minutes to die down after the agents and deputies rushed in. They had the kids leave in a line, the deputies surrounding them on all sides to make sure they didn’t try to pull any stunts as they left, but everyone there just looked disappointed and perhaps embarrassed they’d been caught.

Morgan escorted out Zizzo in handcuffs, Elle on his tail to help get him into one of the vehicles. Then Hotch stepped outside and waved Lydia in.

She grabbed a pair of gloves and ran up, dodging the darkly dressed, metal covered teens, and followed Hotch.

The place looked as much the same inside as it did out. The walls were covered in graffiti, but it was very artistic. Whoever had set the place up took a lot of care in their work, nothing like the chicken scratch on the note Elle found or on the tree in the woods. The tables were covered in candles, most of them a deep red. And tons of creepy statuettes of goat heads and caricatured satans.

“Gideon claims you’re good at analyzing a scene,” Hotch admitted. “What are your thoughts?”

Lydia glanced at him hesitantly. “Well… my first thought is that I love the wooden arched doorway. And my second thought is that if Zizzo set up this house, he’s not our guy.”

Hotch tried not to look surprised. “And you say that because…”

“Because it may be uh… devil worship?” she said, for lack of a better word. “But it’s really nice looking. All those kids just want to defy their super religious parents and he’s made this place feel comfortable for them. They get to enjoy the cool art and decorations, drink some beer, hang out with friends. That’s normal teen stuff. The person who snatched a cheerleader from a hiking trail and killed her boyfriend wouldn’t care about these people.”

“Maybe he only cares for the people in his ‘in’ group,” he suggested.

Lydia shrugged. “Maybe? But it sounds like these kids drift in and out. I mean, Cory was invited once and he never mentioned any sort of initiation. They didn’t make him prove his loyalty. I bet they just offered him a beer and left him to his own devices.”

He didn’t respond to that, simply started walking to the door, the last of the kids finally having been escorted out. “I’m going to leave you here with Reid and Morgan. Search the place from top to bottom. A girl’s life is at stake.”

“Will do!” she called to him, watching his form disappear out of the door.

When she turned around she almost jumped at the sight of Dr. Reid’s approaching figure.

“He left you with us,” Reid mentioned, curiously.

“He must trust you guys not to let me fuck up,” Lydia informed him. “Sorry you got passed the babysitting hat.”

“Don’t apologize,” he told her, stepping away to look at the building around them. “I’m curious to see what you find.”

The last of the deputies began to file out and Morgan eventually ended up joining the two of them as Lydia ransacked all the drawers and cabinets she could find.

~ ~ ~

After about an hour, the last of the deputies had to leave to give a report to the sheriff, meaning the three BAU members were left without a car in the woods with no cell signal.

The two boys had gone outside to see the last deputy off and Lydia was just finishing up her work. The house was so dusty she was starting to think she could drown in all the thick air. But so far, she found nothing incriminating except all the satanist propaganda.

She kicked around the rugs on the floor of the opening room, searching for loose boards or any obvious evidence underneath them, when she heard Reid’s muffled voice say, “You had no right, man!”

She turned her head abruptly, stopping what she was doing to listen to the altercation outside.

“I- I confided in you. This is- You know, this is exactly what I get when I trust someone. It gets thrown back in my face.” He seemed distraught and Lydia had to fight her want to go ask what was wrong with the knowledge that Morgan was probably better to handle this situation.

“Mine started six months after I got into the BAU,” Morgan replied. _ Silence.  _ “Yeah… Mine.”

She dropped down to search the wooden floorboards once more, but she couldn’t block out their conversation as she worked. She silently hoped that they wouldn’t come back in and find her eavesdropping on what appeared to be a very personal conversation.

Morgan started a story on one of his earlier cases as an agent. People getting strangled in Montana. He felt guilty for not starting a profile until after another death appeared, because he wanted to use it to confirm his theories. He started to have nightmares about the last victim, who died because he waited for the unsub to make their next move.

“What did you do?” Spencer asked.

“Gideon,” was Morgan’s reply. “He knew. I didn’t tell him. I was like you. I didn’t want anybody to know. He just… he knew.”

Lydia could feel a melancholy wash through her stomach as she realized that Reid was clearly going through something. And once more that was replaced by guilt as she realized she shouldn’t know that about Reid without his consent. She was just thinking about interrupting them, so she wasn’t subject to more of their secrets when Morgan said something that made her freeze in her spot.

“You think the team won’t understand? Take Lydia in there, for instance. Do you think she doesn’t see her roommate every time she shuts her eyes? To be honest, I don’t think I would have taken this job immediately after what she went through.”

There was an emptiness in her, consuming her and pulling her from her work. She really had tried to avoid thinking about Jenna at all costs. But it was difficult when her death was the reason Lydia had met the team in the first place.

“It’s been months,” Reid reasoned.

“Time means nothing when you lose someone like that. It will eat away at her for the rest of her life.”

Their conversation was put on pause when the sound of a car engine approached, coming to a rough stop outside the house.

“Did you find her? Cherish?” It sounded like Cory’s voice and Lydia stood up, wiping a tear with the inside of her arm before making her way to the door.

“No.”

“Did Zizzo say anything?”

“We don’t know. We’ve been here the whole time,” Morgan informed him.

Lydia stepped out of the house, trying to ignore the concerned look Reid gave her as she jumped off the porch and instead found herself almost running into the pacing teenager.

He stopped, looking shocked to see someone else there, and his gaze lingered on her gloved hands for a moment too long.

“Cory, calm down,” Reid instructed.

“How am I supposed to calm down? Cherish is missing. Did you check all over?” he demanded, trying to push past Lydia and get into the house himself.

“We searched the whole house,” Reid confirmed.

“It’s clean,” Lydia agreed.

“What about the outbuilding?”

“Outbuilding?” Morgan repeated almost immediately.

“Did you check the other area? Back in the woods?”

“I didn’t know there was another area,” Morgan said.

“Yeah, it’s like a- like a sluice structure or something. He took me there once. It’s this way,” the kid rambled before taking off into the trees.

Lydia raised an eyebrow at Morgan who shrugged, then said, “Let’s go.”

~ ~ ~

The hike was brutal. Lydia was starting to feel the weight of the day wearing down on her as she followed the boys farther into the woods.

“It’s up here,” Cory called back to the group. “This is their secret place.”

That was sketchy to Lydia. A secret place _ on top _ of their already secret place?

Morgan pulled out his flashlight, scanning the walls in search of anything suspicious. And he definitely found it. A pentagram and the initials LOD were painted on the side of the building, same handwriting, same red paint.

He insisted that they stay put until he had searched the outside of the house. He knelt down and waved his light underneath the building, which was elevated so that it was level to the side of the mountain. Then, once he was sure that no one was nearby, he nodded for Lydia to follow him and they made their way up the stairs to the front of the building. 

Faintly, she heard Reid start talking to Cory, but couldn’t make out much other than the stress in the boy’s voice.

The door was shut, but Morgan didn’t even bother opening it, because the windows along the sides were large enough to step through and no longer had any glass coverings. He stepped inside first, sweeping the light in search of anyone in the room, then stepped out of the way for Lydia to follow.

And there she was. Poor Cherish Hanson, her skin all blue with a bloody rats nest for hair. She was long gone.

Lydia could see Morgan shaking his head, so she reached out and grabbed the flashlight from him. “You can go tell them. I’ll do a quick sweep of the scene and head right out.”

He nodded, but there was something in his eyes that made Lydia nervous. He seemed startled by the girl’s appearance, but after years on the job, she doubted that could be.

“Is she in there? Is she alright?” Cory demanded, the minute Derek had left.

Lydia shut them out for a minute, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but the place was long abandoned. The only places where the dust layer had been disturbed were around the door up to where the body had been left. But that was understandable, seeing as Cherish was likely killed while on her run and dragged up the mountainside. This killer was athletic alright.

Still, she kicked around the leaves on the ground for a minute to look for something out of place and gently looked over Cherish’s body for anything out of the ordinary.

There was a lot more to her murder than her boyfriend’s. The killer clearly didn’t expect her to be with Adam and had to hit her multiple times to ensure she was dead. The blood trailed down the side of her face and across her chest. But if there was anything to gain from the little details she had, she didn’t know what it was.

Seeing as the unsub had clearly used the door to bring the girl in, Lydia used it to leave and caught Cory’s attention as he spoke to Morgan.

“-because of that, we also gotta look for someone who might try to put himself right in the middle of an investigation so that he can influence things,” Morgan was telling the high schooler which suddenly struck Lydia as odd. Gideon had been insistent that the unsub would be on one of the search parties, for the same reasons Morgan was explaining to Cory, but Zizzo definitely wasn’t.

She removed her gloves and another thing occurred to her. Reid wasn’t there. She started down the stairs to ask Morgan where he’d gone, but Morgan didn’t stay there long enough for her to say anything and instead got closer to Cory.

“Especially if he knows exactly what it is that we’re looking for.”

She froze, her eyes fixated on the pair.  _ Did Morgan think Cory had done this? _ It didn’t exactly fit their ‘killer cult’ profile from earlier.

Cory pushed away from the tree and instead stepped towards the building. “You mean, me?”

He faked innocence well, but Lydia could tell in that moment that he was panicking.

“That was more than just a lucky guess, wasn’t it?” Morgan asked, not yet realizing that Lydia had wandered outside or that Cory was slowly inching closer to her.

“I knew about the building,” he agreed.

“You also knew about Zizzo. And the satanism.”

Finally, he faced the two of them and realized the predicament Lydia was in. Cory had placed himself between her and Morgan, meaning if he got violent, Lydia was unarmed and Morgan couldn’t get to her.

And Lydia knew it, too. She made eye contact with the agent, hoping he would be able to signal to her what to do, but he hadn’t thought that much through. Sending Reid away was easy enough, but he had relied on the hope that Lydia would spend longer looking for evidence.

“I was only trying to help,” Cory argued.

“Well, you did that,” Morgan replied. Lydia saw him beckoning her forward with his hand at his side, hoping that if she could just get close enough, he could pull her out of harm's way. “We couldn’t have found this place without you.”

Once she took her first step off the stairs, Cory realized what she was doing. Before she could process what was happening, he had wrapped an arm around her neck and a gun was pressed into her left cheek.

Both the boys were yelling at her, she realized, but still failed to process what they were saying. Her hands were out in front of her defensively and she realized that Morgan had pulled his gun on Cory, but couldn’t shoot while she was in the way.

“Hey, Morgan,” Reid called, his voice coming from down the hill. “No one’s up there-”

“ _ Reid _ ,” he warned and the doctor froze at the sight before him, also whipping out his gun.

“This got all messed up,” Cory grumbled and Lydia couldn’t help but scoff.

“Clearly.” He pushed the barrel more firmly against her face, trying to increase the pressure. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Morgan said.

“She wasn’t supposed to be with him. It was his run. He runs it every day, not her!”

“Cory, listen to me. We can fix this. But you gotta let Lydia go.”

“I never meant to hurt Cherish. But make no mistake, I will shoot your girl, right now.”

“No, you won’t.”

He awkwardly tightened his grasp on her to cock the gun. “Tempt not a desperate man,” he threatened. “Put the gun down!”

“Okay. All right.” Morgan turned his wrist so that his gun was facing another way and slowly lowered it. “You win.”

“Drop it. Drop the gun!”

“Ok. Ok! You win! I’m putting the gun down.”

He did as he said and after some hesitation, Reid did the same.

“You’re in control, Cory. Let her go.”

As Morgan argued with him, Lydia remembered her talk with Gideon that afternoon about having her questioning suspects. He told her that the profile would help them determine how to get an unsub to slip up. So, what did she know about Cory?

He was terrified. He’d really thought that his plan to frame Zizzo was foolproof. He hadn’t thought this far ahead and, by that logic, he wasn’t thinking about what he’d do if he made it out of this.

“What are you going to do, Cory?” Lydia said, steadily. “Shoot the three of us and then what? Skip town?”

“Shut up!” Her lips had been squished so far to the side of her face by the gun that she was barely understandable.

“I’d rather not. But listen, I’m gonna give you some advice. You’ll have to ditch the car and fast. It’s really nice, but it doesn’t blend in well. Switching the plates only gets you so far.”

“I said, be quiet! I will shoot you!”

“How do you plan to make money?” she inquired, still not listening to him. “You’re kinda screwed there. And I’d feel bad for you, but… you did kill two of your friends and are planning to kill me and two of my friends so the sympathy only goes so far.”

Morgan spoke up once more. “You’re just a horny kid who wanted to get rid of the cheerleader’s boyfriend.”

“No!” Suddenly, Cory’s anger was targeted back at him and Lydia felt his hand shaking, the gun relaxing then being pushed once more against her face.

“That was never my intent-” he started, as multiple things happened at once.

The gun was removed from her cheek in an instant and as he flung his arm towards Morgan, his grip across her chest loosened enough for her to extend an arm out and grab his left hand. Morgan took the distraction to run at him, knocking them both back against the stairs and Lydia struggled to keep Cory’s arm pointed away from them.

He got off one shot into the forest floor before she could grapple it away from him and she rolled off the stairs, hitting the ground painfully, to get out of Morgan’s way.

Morgan got in a solid punch across the face, leaving Cory with a bloody mouth and not much energy to fight back. And by that point, Reid had reclaimed his gun and had it trained on the boy as Morgan handcuffed him.

“You all right?” Reid asked, looking away from Cory and Morgan for a moment to watch her get up.

“Yep,” she replied. Her voice was strained after taking such a hard fall, but she didn’t seem upset. She brushed herself off and looked over her scraped up palms. “I did just get tackled by Morgan, though.”

The older man shook his head, pulling Cory up off the stairs. “You’re welcome, Lydia.”

~ ~ ~

Gideon sat against the back of one of the police cars, watching Reid and Lydia give their accounts of what happened to Hotch and Sheriff Bridges separately. Lydia was clearly exhausted, her clothes were covered in dirt, and there was a lack of patience in her face, but Gideon was proud of her.

As he stared, Morgan approached beside him, also leaning against the car.

“I see it now,” he said quietly, so only Gideon could hear. “Why you like her so much.”

“Do you?”

Morgan sighed. “Your girl had a gun pressed so forcefully against her cheek she could barely talk, but her voice betrayed no fear. I don’t think even you or Hotch could be that calm in a crisis. She didn’t talk at a fast pace or stutter on a single word. It was unbelievable.” 

“When we questioned her about her roommate,” Gideon explained, “she seemed guilty to Reid and I. I said something insensitive to her to see how she’d react, maybe give something away. Her anger only revealed to me a recognition in her eyes. I realized that she’d been here before. Questioned mercilessly. Accused. And suddenly I was the guilty one. So, I tried to switch tactics, but before I could, she was apologizing to me. She said she’d always had some anger management issues and told me that she’d calm herself down so that we could continue the investigation.

“Have you ever seen that before? She’d just lost her best friend and was more concerned about our case than she was her feelings. I knew right then her heart was twice the size of an average FBI agent. I don’t know what that sort of compartmentalizing does to her. I’m  _ still  _ trying to find out. But from where I stand, she looks like she’s capable of saving a lot of people.”

Morgan sucked in his lips, in contemplation. “All right. How do we let her do that?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia followed the team back inside, expecting to be given some paperwork for the case before she could go back to her apartment, but Gideon stopped her as she stepped into the bullpen.

“Lydia, you should really go home. I’ll handle anything you need to do.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gideon, please don’t think I’m freaked out after what happened today. I can handle myself, I promise.”

“I trust you,” he said, genuinely. “But you’re clearly exhausted and you’ve just started graduate school if I remember correctly.”

She nodded and had to stifle a yawn in order to not prove him right so blatantly.

“Go home. Get some rest. You didn’t sleep the whole plane ride. I’ll drop all your paperwork off tomorrow morning. Or, if you’d prefer, we could have a cup of coffee during my lunch break and you can tell me about your phone call with your sister,” he suggested.

Lydia blinked, but it was such an innocent and friendly suggestion she couldn’t help herself from saying, “That sounds great,” and watching him walk off.

Over the course of just one day, a lot had been revealed to her about Gideon. The rest of the team trusted him so much. And after finding out he’d gone to bat for her in order to get her this job, she really couldn’t say no.

She came back to her senses after a second to watch Reid walk past her towards the elevator.

“Oh! Dr. Reid!” she called, suddenly. 

He turned around, a look of utter surprise dawning on his features. “Yes?”

“How exactly do you plan to help me get my PhD in three years?” she inquired.

She’d been thinking about it a lot, now that she had begun her online courses. And everything about it seemed quite appealing, although she still couldn’t reasonably explain why. If she really was going to take this path, she knew she had to do it as fast as possible in order to save money, because she could barely afford the master’s degree she’d long since planned to get.

He smiled and Lydia couldn’t stop herself from smiling back just from seeing the look on his face. His presence was frankly a very welcome one, now that she’d gotten to know him better these past two cases and she found herself drawn into whatever he had to say.

“With my help, make it two,” he said, confidently and the two of them made their way to the elevator together. “Although, if I’m going to help you, I’d much rather you call me Spencer.”

“Spencer.” The name left an interesting feeling in her mouth, being attributed now to genius beside her. “Alright. As long as you’re okay with that.”

And he didn’t respond. Not because he wasn’t, or else he wouldn’t have suggested it. But just hearing her say his name so softly made his stomach do a flip… and he couldn’t understand why.


	5. Poison (S1E13)

Rain was such a strange thing in Lydia’s mind. The sound of it hitting the window next to her was soft and gentle, and so many people spoke of it like it was cleansing or refreshing. But all Lydia had to attribute it to was mud and sickness. It didn’t leave her excited for spring. She didn’t think of it as food for flowers or a new start. She thought of floods. Confinement. Tears… 

“What’s up with you?” Spencer asked, startling Lydia out of her thoughts.

“What’s up with _ me? _ What’s up with _ you! _ You’re late!” she responded, watching him sit across from her at the booth and put down his coffee.

“I just got back from a case last night,” he defended. “I figured you wouldn’t mind if I took a little extra time to take a shower before leaving.”

She looked up at his hair to find it was indeed damp, but it could easily be from the weather outside. “Fine, you get a pass. Also, I don’t need you anyway,” she joked.

His face changed to one of hurt. “Wow. I mean, you don’t, but-”

“Sarcasm, Spencer.” She couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face. “Although, I  _ am  _ doing alright so far. I’m working on these extra assignments my criminology professor gave me. How was your case?”

“It went well. Found the unsub, saved the kid.”

She nodded. “That’s great!”

And they descended into silence, as they had the last time they’d met, both of them working on their own assignments.

After Lydia and Spencer had talked about helping her get her PhD, they’d made plans to meet off hours at a coffee shop so that Spencer could give her some advice for speeding up the college process. It had been terrifying at first. She’d been ready to completely back out, but Spencer had been insanely patient with her, able to convince her (after some rambling and statistics) that she was more than capable. He’d advised her who to talk to and what to ask teachers about their courses and so on to organize her thoughts. And then he just… sat with her as she worked. If she was ever confused on an assignment, he had her back. It was reassuring.

About halfway through their meeting, Spencer had put away his paperwork in favor of a book, but he found his pace excruciatingly slow. He wanted to invest himself in it, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking up at her when he knew she wouldn’t notice.

When she was extremely focused, her teeth would pull mindlessly on the dead skin on her lips. That’s what she’d been doing when he got there and saw her gazing out the window, not even realizing he’d walked in. But he hadn’t wanted to push her on that. And now all her energy was focused on her online work.

He also noticed another small tick when she was struggling with a question, because she always did it before asking him for help.

“How long have you worn a ring?” he asked her, watching her spin it loosely around her knuckle. It was a thick silver band, which was clearly too big for her fingers, and she was constantly switching it between the pointer and middle finger on her right hand.

She raised an eyebrow, but her manor was curious, rather than questioning. “I’ve had this ring since I was 16. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve just never seen you wear it before, is all.”

“It was my dad’s wedding ring,” she confided. “And you’re right. I don’t wear it when I go on cases, because getting latex gloves on and off is hard enough and I’m terrified of losing it.”

He took this answer gracefully, but Lydia could tell he was dying to ask why she had her father’s wedding ring rather than him. And before she could go back to her work, he spoke up again.

“You know, I’ve been really curious about something and you’ll have to forgive me if it offends you, but when we met, I asked you about why you had a limp and you didn’t tell me.”

She silently let go of a sigh of relief that this wasn’t related to her father (or at least, not to his knowledge). “Yeah, sorry about that. I know I was… weird that day.”

“So was I,” he reassured her. “But I’m kinda weird all the time.”

It was a sweet sentiment, but she was quick to shake her head at him. “Not at all. ‘Weird’ to me is far from the definition of Dr. Spencer Reid.”

It was like his eyes sparkled when he smiled at her. She found herself wanting to see it all the time and had to keep herself from staring.

“Right. My leg. Well, in actuality, my foot. I broke it when I was a teenager and it healed incorrectly,” she explained. “The arch is all sorts of messed up. But it doesn’t hurt and I can’t afford surgery anyway so I just let it be.”

“I’m sorry.”

She laughed, absurdly. “ _ What for? _ ”

“You didn’t want to get your PhD, because you couldn’t afford to go through any more years of school than you needed to and now you tell me that you’ve got this limp for the same reason? I don’t want to make any assumptions about your financial status, but I honestly do feel sorry that you think you need to sacrifice these things for it.”

This comment seemed to trigger something in Lydia and Spencer racked his brain for any indicator of what that may be.

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” she responded, but it didn’t have her previous spark of interest in the conversation, so he just agreed and let her go back to her work.

~ ~ ~

“ _ You missed the briefing, _ ” Gideon informed Lydia as soon as she picked up her phone. It had been a week since she’d had her second meeting with Spencer and she was sitting in her apartment, working on her schoolwork.

“What briefing?”

“ _ Jet leaves in 30 minutes. You’re needed on a case _ .”

Lydia scoffed. “Gideon? That’s not a heads up. This would be my 3rd case before my 50 day limit was up, why am I coming along?”

“ _ Do you want the job or not? _ ” he asked, frustrated, but Lydia could tell it was just his impatience.

“Of course I do. I’m on my way. But I know there’s got to be a good reason to call me in  _ after  _ a briefing and against Chief Strauss’s wishes.”

He sighed on the other end before continuing. “ _ We’ve got a poisoning case. LSD. You’re a chemistry expert, so I need you. _ ”

“Reid’s definitely more of an expert than I am. But I’ll do what I can.”

“ _ If we all determined our worth to the team by comparing ourselves to Reid, it wouldn’t be a team… it’d be Reid _ ,” he argued. “ _ I’ll see you on the jet. _ ”

~ ~ ~

“How do you want to handle the press?” Gideon directed to JJ as they all settled down for their flight.

“We still don’t even know how these people got dosed. I think it would be irresponsible to issue a warning without specifics,” she reasoned. “It’ll just cause panic. I did notify the local PD, though, to be discreet.”

“How is it possible that none of these people knew how they got poisoned?” Morgan asked and before Lydia could stop herself, she murmured,

“It’s possible.”

JJ and Morgan both looked at her with concern, the rest of the team just stayed silent and they considered how this case might affect her after what happened with her roommate. The effects of her sudden drugging had been vastly different, but in the end, Lydia could understand the victims of this situation and how they must be feeling now that they’ve come out of their intoxicated state.

Hotch cleared his throat, returning to Morgan’s question. “None of them remembers anything about the day it happened.”

“These people are so messed up, it’s made it difficult for local PD to retrace the victims’ steps,” JJ explained.

“I suggest we split up the victims, see if there’s a pattern in the victimology,” Gideon began.

“Most of them are still in the hospital,” Hotch told him. “I’ll call local PD to meet us there.”

“I’ll check the lab reports,” Spencer offered. “Maybe there’s a clue to the unsub’s motive in the specific nature of the poison he used.”

“Ambers, you’ll go with him,” Hotch ordered, handing her her own file to review the details of the case. “I want you to be supervising the lab tests and keep us updated on everything you find. Especially if any new victims come in.”

“I-” She blinked down at the reports and pictures she’d just been handed. “Unchaperoned?”

“You aren’t a girl in the Regency Era,” Gideon teased. “You can handle it.”

“Don’t break any lab equipment,” Hotch insisted. “But yes, since we don’t exactly have a crime scene for you to analyze and you have experience in the lab as well, I want you there. Don’t worry about having a supervisor for now.”

She nodded, wanting to accept before he changed his mind. She didn’t miss Gideon’s smirk either as she accepted her new assignment. He was excited for her.

And she was kind of excited, too.

~ ~ ~

Spencer kept pace with Lydia as she navigated the hospital for the clinical lab. She was surprisingly confident in herself, finally getting to work a case that wasn’t up to suspect. She didn’t have to wonder about the colors on little girls’ paintings or try to date the wax underneath a satanic symbol. No, labs were natural sciences.

And she was an expert in those.

They were met at the door by one of the biochemists. “Hi. You must be the FBI agents. I’m Dr. Marilyn Keyes.”

“Hello. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the Behavioral Analysis Unit and this is our forensic expert, Lydia Ambers.”

Lydia did her best to greet the woman calmly, but her heart rate picked up when Spencer called her their ‘forensic expert’. She made a mental note to ask him about it later, seeing as she definitely was not considered an expert on the team. She was an intern.

“Alright, I’ve got the results from the blood tests here, but there isn’t much to say. The LSD levels were scarily high.”

“Were there traces of any other drugs in their system?” Spencer inquired.

“Only one,” Dr. Keyes replied. “Rohypnol.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow and turned to find Spencer doing the same. “But rohypnol is a roofie. If the unsub’s goal was to give a bunch of people a wild trip, why give them a sedative?” she asked.

“Because one of the most well known effects is amnesia,” Spencer reasoned, but Lydia shook her head.

“I just don’t see what would make a person poison all these people with a strong hallucinogen and then knock them out before seeing the effects.”

“But it didn’t knock them out,” Spencer argued. “They all still went about their day as normal.”

“Mixing drugs to get a precise effect like that is insanely difficult. This guy has to have some background in science.”

“One of the victims, Jack Fisher, got extremely violent and beat his son almost to death.” Lydia’s eyes shot open. This was news to her, seeing as she missed the briefing. “Are you sure there wasn’t anything like PCP in their systems to cause an aggressive outburst?”

Dr. Heyes shook her head. “We only found LSD and rohypnol.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ve been assigned to oversee the lab work on any new cases brought into the hospital and to keep my team informed of the information as it comes in. May I stay in here?”

Dr. Heyes seemed surprised by the request, but nodded. “Of course. I’ll find you a space to set up.”

As she did that, Spencer turned to go. “I’ll go tell the team what we know so far. Call Gideon or me if you figure out anything else.”

“You got it.”

With him gone, Dr. Heyes paused, her eyes wide. “He’s a doctor?” she asked, completely bewildered.

Lydia laughed. “Yes. He’s got 3 PhDs, in fact.”

If Dr. Heyes’s jaw could hit the floor it would have. “And you, you’re an FBI agent?”

“ _ No _ ,” Lydia said quickly. “No, I’m just an intern. They only sent me here because I’m the only one on the team who was trained in a lab setting. I just got my BS in chemistry.”

She decided not to mention Reid’s credentials, mostly because if the biochemist asked why they didn’t leave Reid here instead, she wouldn’t know what to say.

“But you are so young! You don’t even look like you’re 20 yet!”

“I’m 21,” Lydia assured her. “And he’s 24. Which to be honest, is extremely young to have 3 PhDs, but you know, he’s older than I am, so I think him being an agent is less of a stretch.”

“When did you get a job with the FBI?” she inquired.

“After I graduated this past spring. I’d met them while they were working a case and I guess they were in the market for someone knowledgeable in forensics. Here I am!”

It was a lie, at least to Lydia’s knowledge. The only thing she knew about the offer put in front of her was that Gideon fought for her to get it and Hotch’s boss, Chief Strauss, was not pleased that the position existed at all. But Dr. Heyes took the response and left her to pull out her laptop and try to remind herself about everything she learned about spiking and these specific drugs when she went to UCSC.

~ ~ ~

“ _ We’ve found another victim, _ ” Gideon informed her over the phone. “ _ Her boyfriend worked at the cafe where many of the victim’s had been seen the day they were dosed. We brought him into custody, but it doesn’t look like he did it. And, from what you’ve told us so far about the process of creating this mix of drugs, we’ve ruled out a prankster. They're too disorganized to do this. From a look at other factors we think we’re looking at an avenger here. _ ”

“So, someone’s got a personal vendetta against one of the victims and the rest are just collateral damage? Or was this just his test run?”

“ _ My guess, when he gets the person he’s going for, it’s not exactly going to end in a bad trip and some memory loss. _ ”

Lydia sighed. “One hell of a test run. I mean, I’m looking at these results, Gideon. And the statements from the victims. This guy has made quite the concoction.”

“ _ The profile says he may have an accomplice, but if so, he’ll dispose of them soon. If any new cases come in, let us know immediately _ .”

“Will do,” she said, hanging up on him.

Not 20 minutes later, her phone was going off again, this time it was Spencer.

“Hey.”

“ _ The hospital’s about to be swamped. We’re on our way there now. _ ”

“Swamped? Why?” she demanded, looking up at all the biochemists and pathologists at work.  _ Shit _ .

“ _ A leak hit the news. They didn’t mention why or how people were getting dosed, only that it was happening. The people are in a panic and many people are going to come in with completely psychosomatic symptoms _ .”

“Fabulous,” she grumbled. “Well, I can give you the results of any of the tox screens, but they won’t be in for a while. Especially if people start barging in.”

“ _ We’ll talk to doctors and nurses and find out who is definitely not psychosomatic. Make sure that their blood gets tested first _ .”

“We’ll be ready,” she assured him.

~ ~ ~

“We’ve got a Lynn Dempsey,” Dr. Heyes said, offering up her lab results. “She just got in, tested positive for rohypnol, but negative for LSD.”

“Interesting,” Lydia said, scanning the file. “Maybe she just got roofied?”

“That doesn’t explain her symptoms, though. She was apparently heavily sedated when she got in, but now, she’s struggling to breath. Nausea, difficulty swallowing, and she’s lost control of leg movement.”

“What are you guys thinking?”

“She was taking an antibiotic recently, which, in the case of a severe overdose, could cause these symptoms, but an overdose like that is not an accident. That plus rohypnol is an interesting mixture.”

“Have you guys looked at any biological toxins?” Lydia inquired and she shook her head.

“We didn’t think that was the sort of thing we should be looking for.”

“It’s hard to determine what we should or shouldn’t be looking for. The LSD and rohypnol combination was interesting enough by itself. If this guy’s as good as he appears, I doubt he’s buying drugs from street dealers. He could have access to all sorts of things.”

“I’ll get on it,” the doctor informed her and hurried off.

Lydia grabbed her phone. “Gideon?”

“ _ Whatcha got? _ ”

“Lynn Dempsy? Rohypnol and something else. The lab technicians are working on it now. But, she’s a bad case. Either the target or the accomplice.”

“ _ You get Garcia, I’ll call Hotch. He’s on his way to the hospital now. JJ and Reid are already there, they might have already seen her _ .”

“Got it. Calling Garcia now.”

She fumbled with her phone some more and got Garcia’s contact.

“ _ Sugar! How can I help? _ ”

“The team’s gonna need everything you’ve got on a Lynn Dempsey. We’re looking for connections to the substances the unsub’s using or perhaps anything to indicate someone wants revenge against her.”

The sound of her furious typing could be heard over the line. “ _ Alright. I’ll send whatever information I get to their phones. Right now, all I’m seeing is that she works for Hichcock Pharmaceuticals _ .”

“There’s something to that. Let Gideon know. I’ve gotta go,” she finished, seeing Dr. Heyes already on her way back with papers in her hand. “Did you find something?”

“Lynn Dempsey has been exposed to clostridium botulinum bacteria,” she explained.

Lydia’s eyes widened. “Botulism?”

The doctor nodded.

Lydia was up from her seat in an instant. “I’ve gotta tell Reid. I’ll be right back.”

She threw her phone into her back pocket and ran from the lab to get to the ER.

“Reid!” she called once she reached the waiting room. He turned, JJ following suit. Hotch was on a call over the front desk. She ran up to them, not wanting to disturb anyone around them. “It’s botulism.”

“Is that what the lab reports say?” he demanded, pulling her away from the people and into a hallway.

“Yes.”

“Botulism toxin is the deadliest substance known to man. It blocks acetylcholine receptors, paralyzing it’s victims until basically choking you to death,” he explained, knowing Lydia was already aware of this.

“And without an antitoxin, Lynn Dempsey in there is screwed.”

He put his hand up to his chin. “New Jersey  _ is  _ the pharmaceutical and chemical capital of the US. There’ll be quite a few people with access to the toxin. It could easily be ordered in the form of botox.”

“But, it’d have to be purified,” she reasoned. “Lynn Dempsey is an executive assistant. She wouldn’t know how to do that. And she doesn’t fit the profile. But, she does work for a pharmaceutical company, so if she’s the accomplice, they might have met at work.”

He opened his mouth to add to that, but JJ called, “Reid.”

She was standing in front of Dempsey’s room, looking in.

“I think she’s trying to say something.”

He ran over to enter the room with her and Lydia walked over to Hotch to see if there was anything she could do.

“Then, you should look for Lynn Dempsey, 45,” he was saying over the line. “Garcia’s emailing a picture to your phone.”

There was silence for a moment, and Lydia watched JJ and Reid try and piece together what Dempsey was saying to them. But, the doctor had to rush in as her heart rate started increasing quickly.

“Or working with him,” Hotch offered, but Lydia wasn’t sure of the context. “I’ll call you back. Lydia, what are you doing up here?”

She looked up at Hotch and was terrified for a moment that she’d done something wrong. “I came up here to talk to Reid about Dempsey. She’s been poisoned with deadly toxin found in botulinum bacteria. And without an antitoxin within the first 36 hours, she won’t make it. Reid and I were discussing how the unsub might have gotten this toxin.”

“What were you thinking?” he asked.

“Well, Lynn works for a company with access to this toxin, but it needs to be purified from other drugs. She likely wouldn’t have this ability. We were thinking accomplice.”

He nodded. “That’s what Morgan and I were discussing. We found all the victims went to First New Jersey Federal Bank the day they were dosed and from the security footage, it looks like Dempsey was replacing candies from the candy bowl. The CDC is testing the candies now.”

“Alright. I’ll head back to the lab and start listing off any new victims that come into the hospital.”

“Thank you,” he responded and watched her go.

~ ~ ~

“So, if they worked together, let's start with people who fit the profile who’ve had a recent stressor,” Hotch reasoned, the rest of the team together in the station.

“Like anyone fired from Hichcock in the past 6 months,” Morgan offered. “I’ll call Garcia.”

Gideon’s phone went off beside him. He picked it up and announced, “It’s Lydia. Lydia, you’re on speaker phone.”

“ _ Hey, you said you thought Lynn Dempsey was replacing the candies at the bank? _ ” she started.

“Yes, why?”

“ _ I’m looking through the medical records of the original victims and one of them was severely diabetic. _ ”

“He wouldn’t have taken candy from the candy bowl at the bank,” Reid realized.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Hotch said. “We have the candies here and they’ve tested positive for rohypnol and LSD.”

“ _ Well, not that it means that much, but the amount of LSD in the victims was fairly even across the board, but I’m finding vast differences in the rohypnol. It could be that some of the victims didn’t finish the candies and others did, but I think you should look at those tapes again and check if everyone took a candy. Maybe the unsub contaminated multiple objects at the scene? _ ”

“It’s a bank, what else do you ingest that comes from a bank?” Gideon argued.

“I’ll look over those tapes,” Reid offered. “Thanks, Lydia.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia was finally starting to settle down, thinking she’d done her part in the case now that the last of the tox screen tests had come through and they hadn’t turned up with any strange new victims, when Hotch called her.

“Hello?”

“ _ Ambers, we’ve got a guy named Ed Hill in custody. I want you to search his lab for any indications as to what he planned to do next or who his target was. I’m having Garcia send you the address now. _ ”

“Wait, Agent Hotchner-” she cried, knowing he tended to hang up abruptly. Once she was sure he wasn’t going to cut her off, she continued. “I don’t have a vehicle with me.”

“ _ Nevermind, then. I’ll have Morgan get you. _ ”

“Thanks.”

“ _ And Lydia? _ ”

“Hm?”

“ _ Hotch is fine _ .”

She bit down on her lip to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. “Got it.”

Once he’d gotten off the phone, she closed up her laptop and grabbed her case file.

“Leaving?” Dr. Heyes asked.

“Yes. I’m off to analyze a scene. Thank you for all your help today.”

She smiled. “Thank you for catching the guy who did this.”

“We’re not sure yet-” she started, but left it there, not sure how to continue. Dr. Heyes understood and let her go, but it left Lydia with an inexplicable feeling.

No one had ever thanked her before for her work. Not that she’d done a lot of work before this and when she’d interned at the police station in Santa Cruz, almost all of her time was spent in a lab. But, it nevertheless felt nice to know that people thought she was doing good.

And as she got to the front of the hospital and waited for Morgan to pull up she realized something. While she was here, working for the BAU, she  _ was  _ doing good.

~ ~ ~

The jet was silent on the way back to Virginia. Almost as soon as they boarded, everyone found a spot to rest and had fallen asleep. Lydia had considered shutting her eyes and trying to join them, but deep down, she knew she wouldn’t fall asleep. And without something to distract her, she’d end up letting her thoughts wander, which recently hadn’t ended well for her.

A quick look at the scene and a confession from Ed Hill was the end of the case. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to prevent his suicide, but she had far too much on her mind to dwell on that as well.

Lydia thought about Jenna fairly often, unsurprisingly. She wondered sometimes if she’d been aware of the other two girls’ deaths, maybe she would have been more alert and able to prevent Jenna’s. And she was constantly thinking about what had happened between the last thing she remembered and the time that Jonathan Carrey drugged her. Did she see or hear him before he was able to sedate her? Maybe she’d tried to scream, but couldn’t. Mostly, she wondered if she’d done something dumb, like opened the door for him or simply asked him why he was there.

She knew that in that memory relapse, if she’d called for help, Jenna could have made it out just fine. That was mostly why it hurt.

The other reason was because she had profited so greatly on Jenna’s murder. She’d gotten a job. And it made her feel guilty that any good could have come to her at the expense of another. She just had to hope that Jenna didn’t despise her for it in the afterlife.

But Jenna wasn’t the only death on her mind. Recent events had reminded her of her mother’s death and despite the fact that Lydia had long since recovered from the emotional toll it took on her as a child, she’d likely never have closure over what happened and it was difficult recently to be reminded of that.

But either way, she was glad her job allowed her to give closure to the families of other tragedies.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Hotch asked, sitting across from her and nodding towards the book in her hands.

She smirked and made the same motion towards the cup of coffee he just made for himself. “Aren’t you?”

“I know I’m going to have a lot of paperwork when I get back. I’m preparing myself for that.”

She closed her book and sat up straighter. “I’m not much good at sleeping without help. I’ve had to take sleep aids for most of my life.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her, honestly.

“It’s never really been an issue unless I haven’t had access to any. I’m sorry you have to stay up late filling out paperwork,” she returned.

“Lydia,” he started after a pause. “I’m truly sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable while working this job. I want you to know that I don’t have anything against you, I was just stressed your first few cases.”

“That’s alright,” she reassured him, quickly. “I’m not upset. I was worried that perhaps I was doing something wrong, but I didn’t realize how much my behavior affected your job. And Gideon’s, although I don’t control what he does. I can’t promise that I won’t end up doing something stupid and getting myself fired, because sometimes things happen, but I promise that I will do everything in my power to make it clear that you and Gideon aren’t responsible for my actions.”

“Well, we are,” he argued, which made her giggle, quietly.

“Besides, I get to call you Hotch now. That must mean we’re best friends.”

“Best friends, hm?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her over the rim of his coffee cup and took a large sip.

They’d settled into silence and Lydia was about to pick up her book again, when he said, “Lydia? I want you to know that I was given access to some of your family history when we were considering hiring you…”

A part of her had been wondering if this conversation was going to come up. Gideon had talked to her about her sister, but he never pushed her to talk about her parents. And Garcia had let the topic go after they had their conversation about secrets, leaving Hotch, who she’d never had a private conversation with before, to be the one to confront her.

“Garcia told me that you’d get the information from her background check,” she agreed. “Why?”

“I wanted you to know that sometimes these cases become difficult when they remind us of something personal. And I want you to be aware that if you are struggling while working on a case or something personal is on your mind, we’re all here for you. The team is just that, a team, and many have been through similar things to you. I want you to know that you aren’t alone in this.”

Lydia could feel tears pricking at her eyes. She didn’t think she’d ever reach the point where she broke down in front of one of them. She’d gotten so good at stopping herself that sometimes it scared her. But the offer was one of pure concern. Hotch had built a family in his team and he was opening his arms to her.

And she wasn’t really sure how to show him that she understood.

“On my first case,” she began, “we took Allison Crawford’s brother into custody. Frank. And he had an orange prescription bottle with him.” She remembered the details slowly, trying to piece together what she was thinking at the time. “And it was weird to see. Because it’s not like I don’t see those anymore, I do. But that one made me think of my mom. And it made me angry.” She shook her head, pulling herself out of the memory. “It was gone before I even knew what was happening. I’m not particularly worried about an inability to do the job. But I guess, that’s something.”

She was grateful to look into his eyes and see that he understood. And it had been a long time since she felt like she could speak openly about her life to someone and not feel weird. Or like a burden. Or pitied.

“It’s the same as when people call me Miss Ambers. I know they mean it respectfully, but it always takes me back to sitting in psychiatry or therapy offices with her. The doctors always called her ‘Miss Ambers’.”

Unbeknownst to her, another person on the plane who could imagine what she was going through had been drifting in and out of sleep and heard her confession. Reid didn’t open his eyes, afraid that she might be upset if she found out someone other than Hotch had been listening. But he took in the bits he had picked up and decided that he would keep collecting pieces of Lydia’s story until he could make out a picture of her life.


	6. The Fisher King: Part 1 (S1E22)

“Have you read any of the  _ Sherlock Holmes  _ stories?” Reid inquired, as he walked past Lydia’s temporary desk.

They’d just gotten back from a case and Lydia was hard at work to finish up any reports she had to give that night. She had recently set herself to a standard that she wouldn’t bring any work things to her apartment so that she could focus on her studies there.

“When I was in middle school,” she answered, not looking up from her file. “Why do you ask?”

“Your job on our team is very Sherlock Holmes-esque.” He continued standing to the side of her desk, patiently hoping she’d engage more with him.

And she did after he said that. “Out of the two of us, you think  _ I’m  _ Sherlock Holmes?” she laughed.

“Well, I’m not exactly comparing  _ us  _ to Holmes and Watson, I just…” He paused as he reached into his book bag and Lydia swiveled her chair to face him directly. “I found this collection of some of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories in my apartment and I thought you might like them, if you hadn’t read them before.” He waved the brick-sized book up for her to see. “Do you want them?”

Lydia was surprised, to say the least. She stared at him for a moment, with widened eyes. “You saw a Sherlock Holmes collection and… you thought of- thought of me?” It felt so stupid, but she wasn’t sure what else there was  _ to  _ say. It felt like a joke, but Lydia could see no reason for Reid to be playing her.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “You’re brilliant. You’re younger than  _ me  _ and we’re on the same team. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

She shook her head wildly, the ends of her hair smacking her across the face. “I’m some lowly intern, Spencer. You were a supervisory special agent at the age of 23.”

“You could be, too,” he suggested. “You’ve got two more years to accomplish that.”

She stopped herself from shaking her head again and smiled down at her lap. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be an agent. I’ll stick to blood splatters and fingerprints.”

When she looked back up at him, she realized that he was still holding the book.

“Oh! I’d love to read some stories though,” she informed him. “If you’re sure you want to part with the book for a few weeks.”

“It’s not a problem,” he responded cheekily, setting it down on her desk. “You’ll have to call me and tell me what you think of the ones you read.”

She agreed and was watching him wander away when something struck her. “Oh, Spencer!”

He flipped on his heel, looking at her curiously. “Yeah?”

“You’re headed back to Vegas over your break, yeah? So I won’t be able to meet up with you at the cafe that week?”

He nodded.

She couldn’t help but glance at the gift he’d just given her. To borrow, of course, but it made her heart swell. “I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll be fine. You barely ask me for help on your courses anymore anyway. I think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A panic hit her as he left. _ Did he think she didn’t need him anymore? Was he going to leave her to get her PhD by herself now? _

It wasn’t his job, but she’d figured he would be there to help her for every step of the way, as he had the past six months. But he was a genius, so  _ if he said she could do it, shouldn’t she trust him?  _

_ Ehh… he was intellectual, but college relied on emotional and mental factors, too. _ If something unexpected happened, she might need him again.  _ Why did it feel relieving to know that something might cause her to be incapable of doing this alone?? _

_ Oh fuck. _

_ Oh no. _

_ It wasn’t about the PhD at all. _

_ No, no, no. _

_ She had feelings for Spencer Reid. _

~ ~ ~

_ “I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life.” _

Lydia allowed herself a few extra minutes to scan the pages of “The Red-Headed League” that evening after dinner. In the past few days, she’d read a few of the shorter of Doyle’s  _ Sherlock Holmes  _ stories, but had yet to talk to Spencer about them. He’d left for Las Vegas the previous day and she’d gotten the feeling that going home to his family was stressful for him, so she decided to give him some time to settle before speaking with him again.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Before she could truly invest herself in the book’s pages, she heard a brief knock at her door.

This job had really made her paranoid. She went totally silent, listening closely, but didn’t hear any voices or shuffling outside. Which was better than someone screaming at her to open the door or else they’ll kill her, but didn’t assuage her fears. No one she knew was in town. They’d all gone elsewhere for their vacation time with the exception of Hotch. Nor did they know where she lived to her knowledge. And if someone had accidently tapped against her door on their way down the hall, she would have heard them walking away… right?

She creeped towards the door, trying not to make any noise. If there was someone creepy out there, hopefully she could convince them no one was home and they’d leave. But there was no one outside that she could see from the peephole.

She was still afraid that someone might be hiding outside of the door’s line of sight, so she waited for a minute longer, looking out occasionally for any movement and listening closely. It wasn’t until she heard one of her neighbors leaving, a girl around her age who lived with her boyfriend down the hall, that she thought it was safe to open her door. If there was someone creepy waiting outside her door, her neighbor wouldn’t have acted so normal on her way past.

So, Lydia cracked the door open and looked down the hallway for anything out of place and found a small square package on the floor. There was no return address on it. On the top, written in Sharpie, was her name, apartment building, and room number.

That didn’t look good. But at that point, her fear of getting murdered was overtaken by immense curiosity. This had to have been hand delivered, but by who? The only people who would consider sending her a package were all in California.

She grabbed a nearby pair of scissors and slit the tape on the box to open it. And the inside was far stranger than the outside.

Inside was a singular orange prescription bottle. The label was made out to a Lady Blanchefleur for bupropion. She had no clue what the name meant, but the drug?  _ That  _ was targeted.

She was infuriated just by the sight of it and was ready to throw it out, but she saw a small slip of paper inside. She flipped the cap off and unrolled the small sheet.

_ SAVE HER. _

_ What the hell was going on? Was someone trying to torment her about her past? _

_ But who knew? _

As much as she wanted to forget about the whole thing, Lydia knew something was messed up about this whole picture. Clearly whoever had sent this knew a lot about her history. More than she thought a single person  _ did  _ know about her life. It was terrifying and sickening to think about.

Gideon told her not to call while he was on his vacation time. He needed the time away from anything work related and she could understand that. And she didn’t want to bother Hotch when he finally had family time. The only other person on the team who she trusted with this information was…

Spencer.

It was still mid-afternoon where he was, so she figured a call at this time would be reasonable. And even if he told her it was nothing, she could really use a voice she could trust right now.

It took him a few rings to pick up. “ _ Hey, sorry. What’s up? _ ”

“Hey, Spencer? I just got a really weird package delivered to my door. It doesn’t have a return address, just my name and apartment room. And inside-”

“ _ Lydia, don’t open that, _ ” he said, quickly, but she huffed.

“I already opened it. It’s just an orange pill bottle. But inside, there’s a note that says ‘save her’. And I have no clue why someone would send me something like this.”

She could feel his exasperation across the country. “ _ Next time, don’t open weird packages, yeah? But I’m not sure why you’d get something like that. Garcia and JJ are at the office right now. You should call one of them and have the package processed. Let me know what you find, okay? _ ”

“Yeah, I’ll text you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“ _ You aren’t bothering me at all. I’m glad you called…” _ He cleared his throat, awkwardly. _ “Talk to you later, okay? _ ”

“Talk to you later.”

~ ~ ~

“Lydia!” JJ cried upon seeing her enter the BAU the next day. “Thank god. Something really weird is going on.”

“Did they find anything on the package I got?” Lydia inquired and she was quick to shake her head.

“No. But Hotch had to go to Jamaica, because Elle was arrested for murder and Gideon got a package with a head inside it.”

“A _ head?!? _ ”  _ Oh god, she was lucky. _ “A human head?”

JJ nodded. “Hotch is clearing Elle’s name and then he’ll be back with her and Morgan. Oh, and don’t bug Garcia,” she warned. “Her computer system’s down. She thinks she got hacked. When I went in there she was freaking out.” Lydia opened her mouth to say more, but JJ was off again. “Gideon! I’ve been trying to call you.”

Lydia flipped around to see Gideon marching towards the two of them. “Why?”

“Someone sent you a head?” JJ demanded.

“From Jamaica.”

“Morgan and Elle are in Jamaica right now,” she explained. “There was a murder. The body was headless. Elle’s been arrested for it.”

“What?”

“Hotch headed down there last night with some bureau lawyers and a crime scene unit. He should be there by now.”

Gideon rubbed his forehead, looking beyond exhausted. Lydia wondered what he’d been doing when that head arrived at his cabin. He’d made it very clear to them his cabin was where he had time to himself and she felt so bad he’d been so grossly interrupted. “If you talk to him, have him call me right away.”

“Yes, sir,” JJ replied, and they both took off in different directions. Lydia considered sitting at her desk and finding a way to pass the time while this mess was figured out, but an agent stopped her and Gideon on their way into the bullpen.

“The baseball card, medication bottle, and notes from your packages,” the man said, handing her the evidence bags. “We processed them. There’s nothing. And we’re still working on identifying the head.”

“Try contacting the Montego Bay Police. Apparently they have a headless homicide victim.”

“Got it.” He took off and Gideon waved Lydia towards the round table room.

“Lydia, start setting up an evidence board. Whatever you’ve got.”

“Sure.”

She dashed away and began pinning the small items onto a corkboard. Gideon had received an envelope with the exact same ‘SAVE HER’ message on the outside and inside was a Nellie Fox baseball card. And her evidence bags included a small slip of paper and a medication bottle.

She hesitated putting the last item up. This bottle… it was personal to her. And as soon as it became evidence in a case, she’d have to come clean about its significance.

She huffed and stuck the pin in more forcefully than she meant to.  _ It didn’t matter. She didn’t have any secrets. Whatever, right? _

They didn’t have to know everything, did they? And maybe, this unsub just picked random information to put on the bottle. Completely coincidental.

Except JJ had said Garcia’s computer might have gotten hacked.  _ Shit _ . The FBI’s databases probably had that information on file. As well as where she was currently living. So then, maybe the coincidence was actually the bottle? This person had no clue how she felt about those stupid, plastic cylinders. That made more sense logically.

In fact, the only thing that didn’t make any sense was the name.  _ Lady Blanchefleur. White flower. _

Lydia jumped out of the room and towards her desk, typing the name into a search engine.

Blanchefleur was a common French name in the Middle Ages. She was the heroine in a famous story titled “Floris and Blancheflour” although the spelling of the name and details of the story changed depending on when and where it was transcribed. The name was also given to two separate characters in tales of the Knights of the Round Table: the first being the mother of Sir Tristan and the second, the love of Sir Percival.

She scanned page after page for anything that might indicate why the unsub had chosen that name, but there was very little on the name in fiction or history. The tale of Floris and Blancheflour was a short and sweet romance, but she could find no connections to herself or the case in it. And in the case of the round table knights, the name had been mentioned, but the characters never appeared in the stories, so she didn’t have any leads on that detail.

She glanced up just in time to watch JJ rush from her office to Gideon’s, a wooden picture frame in her hand.

She growled and shut down her computer, knowing full well that she was about to get more evidence for the board. But so far, other than a body in Jamaica and a head in a box, none of these pieces fit together.

~ ~ ~

“Come on,” JJ told Lydia, making her way out of the round table room. “Hotch, Elle, and Morgan should be coming up now.”

Now, to add to their collection, they had a butterfly in a frame with the message ‘SHE HAS BEEN SEARCHED FOR BUT NEVER FOUND’ and the name of a man who’d disappeared from Jamaica following the mysterious murder, Frank Giles. Lydia had been staring at the board for an hour at least, completely zoned out, but she listened to JJ and followed her through the bullpen.

Their timing was perfect, finding the three colleagues in a circle just outside the BAU office.

“Hotch, I spent half the night in an interrogation room,” Elle was berating him. “I am not sleeping until I find this Frank Giles.”

“Frank Giles left Jamaica last night on the Red Eye,” JJ informed the group as she and Lydia joined the circle. “He flew to Florida and then got onto another flight to Virginia.”

“Virginia?” Elle snarled. “You mean that son of a bitch is from here?”

“I don’t know if he’s from here, but this is where he flew to. Arlington.” She looked over the page a different tech analyst had given her. “He’s got a long criminal record. Manslaughter, robbery, rape.”

“What about the victim?” Morgan asked. “Marty Harris.”

“Uh, he’s a two-time convicted fetish burglar, registered child sex offender-”

“And we have his head,” Gideon interrupted, joining them. “CSU just positively identified the one delivered to my cabin.”

“‘Don’t waste time on the first victims. They were unrepentant bad men. They only got what they deserved,’” Hotch recited from a notepad in his hand.

“What is that?” Morgan asked.

“I got a phone call last night before you called from Jamaica,” he informed the group, waving the notepad with the conversation he’d written on it.

“Any mention of a ‘her’?” Elle questioned.

“‘You must help him save her,’” he responded.

“Now there’s a ‘him’, too?” Lydia rubbed her forehead as if it would clear her mind from this nauseating puzzle in front of her.

“I think he means Reid,” Gideon explained.

“Reid?” JJ asked.

“We need to regroup,” Hotch determined and the entire group turned and entered the bullpen.

~ ~ ~

Lydia lay dramatically with her head over the back of the chair she was seated in. They’d all migrated back to the conference room and she hated the idea of going back to staring blankly at the evidence boards. So her eyes traced the tiles of the ceiling as she listened to the rest of the group speak.

“So, clearly we have a psychopath who’s intent on drawing us into his game,” Hotch was saying.

“Playing with us,” Gideon added.

“Then let's return the favor,” Elle fired.

“He kept telling us repeatedly to save ‘her’. What ‘her’?” Morgan asked.

“The items he sent must be some kind of clues.”

Hotch agreed with Gideon and told JJ to start listing them off on the whiteboard.

“I got a Nellie Fox baseball card from 1963,” Gideon began, “and I got a head in a box.”

“I got a rare butterfly in a shadow box,” JJ added, before beginning the list.

“And repeated messages to save ‘her’,” Hotch offered.

Elle was pacing, obviously furious. “I got the decapitated body and a nice visit to the Jamaican police headquarters.”

“Reid called from Nevada,” Gideon explained for him. “He’s on his way back here with a skeleton key and a note he got, too… Lydia?”

She jumped up in her seat suddenly. “Sorry. I got a medication bottle with the name Lady Blanchefleur on it.”

“Lady Blanchefleur?” Elle asked.

She shrugged. “It’s French. It means ‘white flower’. I looked it up and there are a few notable uses of it throughout history, but nothing stood out to me.”

“Wait,” Hotch mumbled. He began flipping rapidly through his notepad again to find his scribbles. “You said Reid got a key?”

Gideon nodded.

“The guy who called me said something along the lines of…” he scanned the page he was on. “‘Sir Percival holds the key’.”

“Percival!” Lydia cried. “Yes! That was one of the… the Knights! At the Round Table!”

She grabbed Hotch’s notes before he could protest and looked over the line again.

“Sir Percival was known as Arthur’s most innocent and loyal knights. He went on the quest for the Grail and he was in love with… Lady Blanchefleur.”

She froze up at the implications of that.  _ Did the unsub know that she was crushing on the doctor? But how? That was on no file and she definitely hadn’t told anyone. _

“Ok, but wait a minute,” Morgan continued, no one seeming to notice her embarrassment. “They don’t contact us this way. I mean, they might taunt us, dare us to catch ‘em. But they don’t drag us into their fantasies.”

“Why not?” JJ asked, turning away from the board she was writing on.

“Because they’re sexual fantasies,” he argued. “I mean, taunting us is a show of power, but making us the object is… I don’t know what the hell that is.”

“Something else about the baseball card,” Gideon murmured. “Nellie Fox was one of the stars of the 1959 White Sox. I went to almost every game with my father that year. Fox was my hero. So, is it a coincidence that he sends this to me? Or does he know how I feel about him?”

JJ’s eyes went wide. “I collected butterflies when I was a little girl. That’s how I knew what butterfly was in the box.”

“So then he knows us,” Morgan determined.

“I got an anonymous message,” Hotch argued.

“I got a police raid,” Elle continued.

“But he knew exactly where we were,” Morgan shot back. “Hotel in Jamaica. Gideon at the cabin. Reid in Vegas. You and Lydia at your homes.”

“He got that from the Bureau computers.” Garcia appeared in the doorway, a manilla folder in hand. “Your locations are always in there so they can find you if they need you. I checked the log. The hacker was definitely in the personal folders. There were room numbers to the hotels in Jamaica, the address of Gideon’s cabin… There’s a lot of information in those databases,” she admitted.

“Have you figured out how he was able to get into the Bureau’s computers?” Hotch asked and she swallowed, harshly.

“I’m- I’m still working on that,” she said, but she looked like she was nodding.

“Garcia, if you know something-”

“No, it- um…” Lydia felt so bad for her. She looked terrified. “It’s just- I… I was playing a game yesterday. An online game.”

Gideon blinked. “A game?”

“Not on the Bureau computer, sir,” she defended, quickly. “On my own personal laptop.”

“Garcia, no, no, no, no.” Morgan put his head into his hands and Garcia’s eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t understand,” Hotch said, softly, seeing how fragile the tech genius was.

“Wireless internet,” was all Morgan said.

“By wirelessly hooking into the net here to get online, the hacker could have gotten into my computer first, and I have far less protection on my own laptop.”

Hotch crossed his arms. “And he could have gotten into the entire Bureau computer system this way?”

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper at this point. “Yeah, it’s possible.”

Gideon got up slowly, turning away from the group. “Playing a game?” he asked. “How could you be that stupid?”

“Gideon!” Lydia shouted.

“Information, files,” he continued, ignoring her. “You have a responsibility.”

“I know, sir,” Garcia apologized, the tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry.”

Everyone stayed silent at the spectacle, wondering who would speak first. Lydia watched everyone’s eyes drop to the floor as Penelope looked for some support and it infuriated her. She threw down Hotch’s notepad and walked over to comfort the girl, but she pushed her away.

“But I found him,” she told them through her tears.

“You what?” Elle started to move towards her.

“I know who he is,” she said. “The hacker. His name is Giles. Frank Giles. He lives in Arlington, Virginia, four miles from here. I have his address.”

She handed the folder to Hotch before swiftly leaving the room.

“Did she say Giles?” Morgan repeated.

~ ~ ~

_ Hotch: Rm 1210. Now. _

Lydia hadn’t even read the text before she was throwing on her vest and leaving the SUV. Hotch had required her to start wearing the bulletproof attire after the fiasco in McAllister when Cory Bridges had a gun on her. It didn’t exactly make her feel safer, knowing that the vest wouldn’t have stopped a bullet to the face, but getting shot on the job didn’t help him or Gideon prove she was an asset to Strauss, so she agreed to it.

She silently passed all the exiting SWAT guys as she made her way upstairs and to Frank Giles’s apartment. She thought for sure that she’d watch them walk him away in handcuffs, but by the time she got to the room, she hadn’t seen him. Maybe he wasn’t home?

Oh, how wrong she was. She stepped into the apartment building and found the team standing around his body. He lay on a bare bed, a long sword straight through his chest. And, of course, in blood behind him:

_ HERE THY QUEST DOTH TRULY BEGIN _

“God damnit,” she grumbled, already pulling her gloves out of her pocket.

“He’s definitely playing with us,” Hotch said.

“His identification checks out,” Elle admitted, handing Hotch the ID she’d found by the body. “That’s Frank Giles.”

“There’s a big old bag of money sitting right here on the dresser,” Morgan continued.

“Oh boy,” Lydia joked. “Where to start?”

“So, Giles took Harris to Jamaica to kill him and the unsub killed Giles,” Hotch figured.

Morgan was already pulling stacks of cash out of the bag. “Yeah, but he paid him first.”

“Left the cash?” Elle inquired.

He shrugged. “He’s apparently well-funded.”

Lydia knelt down next to the body to look at the blade in his chest.

“He said these were ‘unrepentant bad men’,” Hotch reminded them. “Are we looking for some kind of vigilante?”

“No,” Gideon murmured. “The bodies are nothing but a way to get us interested. They’re game pieces. The killings are secondary.”

“Well, this guy likes to write things in blood on walls,” Elle stated and Morgan nodded.

“All kinds of cult and demonic significance to that.”

“Thy? Doth? Quest?” She threw the words around before reading it in its entirety. “‘Thy quest doth truly begin’ Why start phrasing things like this now?”

“All the other messages were in modern English,” Hotch agreed.

“Maybe this is the first one the unsub actually wrote,” Morgan suggested.

Elle scoffed. “So we’re looking for Shakespeare?”

“Hey, guys?” Lydia interrupted. “There’s something etched on the blade.” She leaned in close, trying to read the scratches over the already intricate designs on the sword. “‘To learn of what should next be done, leave the blade til the hour be none’.”

“Hour be none?” Morgan asked and Hotch leaned down to see for himself.

“Leave the blade,” he mumbled. “Elle, move for a second.” She stepped away from the group, backing up towards the bloody wall. “Move to your left… The bed’s in the middle of the room.”

“Which isn’t by chance,” Morgan agreed.

“And maybe the light from here-” He pointed to a window behind him, where Elle formerly was. “-casts a shadow and points to something.”

“Come on,” Elle protested. “Are we in the middle of an Indiana Jones movie?”

“The hour be none?” Hotch repeated, ignoring her comment.

“Midnight is 00:00 hours in 24-hour time. Would that be none?” Morgan asked.

“Midnight wouldn’t cast a shadow,” the older man argued.

“Hour be none…” Morgan sounded it out like it might suddenly come to him.

“3 PM.”

Spencer had slid into the room, his book bag still around his shoulder. He looked a little tired, but Lydia attributed it to jet lag and possible stress over the new case.

“Hey, guys. Garcia told me where to find you.”

“3 PM?” Gideon asked.

“It’s medieval,” Spencer explained. “The days used to be broken into hourly intervals. The canonical intervals of the breviary. Prime: 6 AM. Terce: 9 AM. Sext: 12 noon. None: 3 PM. And vespers: 6 PM.”

“Reid, do not ever go away again,” Elle insisted.

He smiled, but Gideon refused to let them fall off track. “Medieval. That’s why the language changed.”

“Everything this guy does is a clue,” Hotch agreed.

“We can narrow it down some more,” Lydia offered. “He was talking about King Arthur’s Round Table earlier.”

“The Round Table?” Reid inquired.

“Okay, but guys, it’s 4:35,” Morgan interrupted. “What do we do? Leave the blade in until 3 PM tomorrow?”

It took Reid a minute to realize we’d switched topics. “Oh, not if we can block that window out.” He turned to one of the crime scene investigators in the seperate room. “Do you have any spotlights in your car?”

“Sure,” she replied and the team got to work on covering the window.

~ ~ ~

Lydia sat down in a corner of the room, watching as everyone set up for their experiment. Spencer knelt in front of the now dark window and rest stood off to the sides so they could see the uninterrupted shadow on the wall.

“So, the sun is right here at 5 PM,” he started, turning on the flashlight to face the sword. “Morgan, follow the shadow as I move the light higher.”

He was quick to oblige, moving a lamp and the table on which it sat out of the way as the shadow flattened out. “Okay. And do what?”

Hotch leaned forward. “Tap,” he instructed.

Morgan used the pads of his fingers to prod at the wall as the shadow moved under Spencer’s direction. After a moment, the hilt of the sword lined up with a hollow spot in the wall.

“Definitely an Indiana Jones movie,” Elle repeated her reference from earlier.

“Feels like the wallpaper’s been replaced.”

“Tear it open,” Hotch told him.

Morgan pulled out a pocket knife, which slid easily into the thin plaster and allowed him to pull a large section of the wall out.

“It’s a box.”

“Take it out.”

“Wait, are we sure it’s safe?” Reid interrupted.

“What, you think it’s a bomb?” Hotch fired back. “You think he’d be playing this game just to blow us up?”

“He’d have already done that as long as we’ve been standing here,” Morgan agreed and reached into the hole.

It was a strange, dark box, with a gold lock encrusting the front. Morgan tried for a second, but it wasn’t opening.

“It’s locked. You want me to break it?”

“No,” Hotch sighed. “We should process it first.”

Everyone was startled when Gideon finally spoke up. “‘Sir Percival holds the key’,” he muttered.

The entire group turned their heads to Reid. “Sir Percival?” he asked, bewildered.

“I’ll explain later,” Lydia told him and approached. “Do you have the key?”

He fumbled around his pants and shirt pocket until he found the skeleton key and handed it to her. Lydia joined the group around the box and opened it up carefully. The second the top cracked open, a slow, sweet tune filled the room.

Music box.

A thin lined piece of paper sat on the bottom of the box, which Reid took from her hand and read aloud. “‘Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man’s sight.’”

“Well, that was worth it,” Elle replied, sarcastically.

“The lid,” Gideon said from behind her. “Little tab right under the lock.”

Morgan saw what he was talking about and pulled the top down to reveal another compartment in the top of the box. And inside that was a lock of blonde hair, tied together with a pink ribbon, and a DVD that read: THY QUEST.

Elle took the hair to a crime scene investigator to put in an evidence bag and Morgan looked over the DVD.

Lydia stood up fully and started to leave, ripping her gloves off as she went. “Let’s go see what this stupid quest is about.”

~ ~ ~

“Sir Percival?” Spencer repeated as the two sat next to each other in the conference room.

“Right.” She rubbed her palm over her forehead. “Hotch got a call. The speaker said, ‘Sir Percival holds the key’. Then we found out you had received a skeleton key. And the medicine bottle I got? It’s prescribed to a ‘Lady Blanchefleur’. She’s the love of Sir Percival in some of the stories of the Round Table.”

His eyes widened. “So, we’re…”

“This unsub thinks we are,” Lydia replied quickly. She was too exhausted to have this awkward conversation right now. “He’s definitely got a medieval fantasy to play out.”

They put the DVD in and a video popped up. The setting was dark, with a large shadow cast over the top half of the room. There was a fireplace against the back wall, but no fire. The camera was set up on a desk, with many strange objects littered around, all gold in color. And finally, a grand leather chair faced the camera.

It took a moment for the man to walk in, most likely their unsub. He wore all black and hobbled onto screen slowly, taking a painful moment to sit in the chair. With the terrible lighting in the room, his face was obscured from their view.

“He moves funny,” Hotch noted.

“Looks like he’s injured or something,” Morgan agreed.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and raspy. Lydia wondered if he was a smoker or had lost it somehow, but if the latter were the case, it would have been accompanied by coughs or moments where the sound disappeared completely. He didn’t have that, which would suggest he’d been living like that a long time.

_ “I assure you… you’ll all understand in the end why it must be this way. You might even thank me. _ ”

“Don’t hold your breath, scumbag,” Elle snapped.

“ _ You know now you’re on a quest. A young girl’s life depends on the successful completion of it. _ ” The video cut to one of a blonde girl in all white, sitting on a bed. When she noticed the camera, she started throwing objects across the room at the person filming. “ _ As you can see, she’s quite beautiful… and in distress. _ ” There was another shot of her at the door of the room, There was a barred window in the door, which she pulled at and threw herself against.

Then, it cut back to their unsub. “ _ Now, please listen closely for there is one rule. And this rule  _ must  _ be followed. The one rule is… only the members of your team may participate in the quest. _ ” As he listed off each team member, pictures of them on the job appeared. “ _ Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Elle Greenaway, Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, and Lydia Ambers. _ ” Lydia was terrified to see her face appear with the others. She could see someone easily getting these pictures from newspapers and press conferences. Some of them were perhaps more candid, but even so, the BAU was constantly working popular cases and people could easily join a crowd and catch pictures of them.

But Lydia? She recognized where she was standing. It was outside the hospital of the poisoning case she worked a few months back. No one was there. It was a hospital parking lot, the only way she could have missed someone taking photos of her was if they were sitting in their car waiting for her to come out.

God, that’s horrifying.

“ _ A quest must be completed in the proper way or it isn’t a quest, is it? That’s it. One rule. Simple. Now, you will be receiving an item soon that will hold the final clue you’ll need to finish the quest. You will find you’ll also need a book which has inspired many an adventure like mine. Believe me when I tell you, I truly hope to see you all soon. It will mean a successful end to this adventure… for all of us. _ ”

The screen went black.

“This guy’s got pictures of us?” Elle demanded, suddenly.

“What do we do now?” Spencer asked.

“Well, the lock of hair’s being analyzed for DNA. There might be something on file,” Hotch explained, avoiding the uncomfortable topic of the video they’d just watched.

“I’ll get the video team to enhance the shots of the girl,” JJ offered, grabbing the DVD from the player.

“Let’s get the clues up on the board,” Hotch ordered. “Maybe we can make some sense of something.”

“Wait. We’re going to play this guy's game?” Elle cried.

“Do we have a choice?” Spencer shot back.

The sound of the door opening caught everyone’s attention and Lydia turned around in time to watch Gideon storm out. She wasn’t sure what was up with him, but at the moment, she just couldn’t deal with it. Lucky for her, Hotch volunteered, standing up to leave.

“Be right back. You guys keep working.”

As soon as both her superiors were gone, Lydia lay her head down on the table and listened distantly to what the others had to say.

She really wasn’t in the mood for this puzzle solving today.

~ ~ ~

Not ten minutes later, Hotch was back… with his wife, son, and a piece of poster paper with a bunch of random numbers on it. Supposedly someone had appeared at their door and told Haley to give the paper to Hotch immediately.

“Dear lord, I’m going to throw myself out of a window,” Lydia grumbled, watching Spencer put the new delivery onto a corkboard.

“Ambers,” Hotch warned, before leaving with his wife.

“Sorry, I’m going to let someone  _ push me  _ out of a window,” she joked once they were out of earshot. “What are we looking at?”

“My eyes are so heavy I can barely see it,” Elle replied.

“I think it’s a coded message of some sort.” Reid rubbed his chin, contemplating.

“The unsub said we’d need a book, didn’t he?” Lydia asked. “It could be book code.”

He nodded excitedly. “Each one of these sets of numbers represents a particular word. For instance, page 118, line 30, word 3. We need to figure out what the words are and fill in the blanks.”

Morgan somehow looked even more fed up than Lydia felt. He ran his hands over his head and interlocked the fingers at the back of the neck, pulling on it like he planned to tear his own head off.

“Yeah, but from what book?” Elle asked Spencer and he shrugged.

“I don’t know. The trouble is it has to be the exact same edition of the exact same book that he used.”

JJ walked in, a folder in her hands. “Just got a DNA hit on the lock of hair. Rebecca Bryant. She’s been missing out of Boston for two years.” As she explained, they passed around the photo they had of her on file.

Lydia’s heart had skipped a beat when JJ said Rebecca, panicking for a moment about the safety of her own sister. Could the unsub possibly know where her sister and Sonia lived?

“Two years?” Elle was appalled.

“Guys, how are we supposed to figure out which book this code was copied out of?” Morgan demanded.

“I have no idea,” Reid admitted for the second time.

JJ took back the picture to stick to the whiteboard and started to write around it.

“He said we have everything needed to complete the quest,” Reid murmured and the whole team stared at the boards, looking for any clues, indications, hints… anything that stood out really.

“The answer’s gotta be up there somewhere,” Elle reasoned.

“JJ,” Gideon waltzed in out of nowhere, “get some reporters here as soon as possible.”

“For what?”

“Just say we need help on a new case.”

They all looked around blankly after he left.

“Press conference?” Morgan asked.

JJ shrugged before following suit and leaving them to stare at the boards for any bright ideas.

~ ~ ~

Over the next hour, they pulled down all of the evidence bags and Lydia began to do as much research on anything out of place that she could.

Elle had fallen asleep on one of the couches and they all opted to leave her there unless they came up with something.

Reid lifted up a nearby bag. “A pale clouded yellow butterfly indigenous to Great Britain?” he asked.

Lydia was already typing away at her laptop for any significance to that.

“How’s it going?” Hotch had finally returned from the press conference and Lydia felt bad for being so negative to him earlier. The obvious stress that came upon him when his wife and kid were involved was completely reasonable and she was glad he was able to get them into a hotel. She could only imagine the panic she’d be feeling if her sister lived with her. She wouldn’t let the girl leave her sight after getting that package.

“The answer to what book we need has to be in here,” Spencer pondered.

Morgan dropped whatever he’d been toying with at the time. “Yeah, but we sure as hell can’t see it.”

“Yet,” Spencer specified.

Hotch stepped away from them to shake Elle awake.

“I’m sending you home,” he insisted, denying her protests.

“Elle, seriously, we’re not any closer than we were,” Morgan told her. “Get out of here. Go home.”

“But-”

“That’s an order,” Hotch interrupted. “Let’s go.”

Lydia watched silently as Hotch escorted her out, then read off what she’d learned about the butterfly to the two guys left. “Its binomial name is the colias hyale. If I had to guess, this one is a female. It’s a large species of butterfly and lives in flowery places.”

“It’s a butterfly, Lydia,” Morgan said impatiently. “No shit.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s very much to learn about butterflies,” she shot back. “They’re pretty insects and that’s all. What do you want from me?” She huffed and scrolled some more. “Okay… this says that yellow butterflies represent new life and if you cross paths with one, it supposedly gives you happiness?” She searched some more, clicking on various links and scanning the pages. “Oh shit, nevermind. There’s a whole lot of symbolism of butterflies spiritually. They represent angels and rebirth and stuff. Hold on.”

She’d fallen into a rabbit hole of sorts. The religious relation to the butterfly was more popular than she thought, but there wasn’t much credibility to her sources. She tried to find references to this specific butterfly in books or other forms of media but came up empty.

“I can’t find any significance to it in a book. Should we try something else?”

“Ambers.” Hotch called her over from the door he’d just taken Elle out of. “I need a word.”

She set the computer back down and followed him out curiously. “What’s up, Hotch?”

“I want to respect your past and privacy, so I haven’t brought the pill bottle up yet, but if it has any significance to the case, I need you to tell me now.”

She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. The fact that it’s for bupropion is personal. I know that. But the rest seems like random information.”

“Nothing is random for this unsub,” he argued and walked into the conference room. “Reid, hand me the prescription bottle.”

The boy’s head shot up, but he wasn’t looking at his boss. His eyes were glued to Lydia. “Oh… um…” He dropped his gaze awkwardly and reached for the bag in front of him. “Here you are.”

“Okay. _ Lady Blanchefleur. Bupropion. RX: 315121253201518. Doctor Sir Kneighf, _ ” he recited. “What does that mean?”

“Well, Lady Blanchefleur we’re assuming is in relation to the medieval character,” she reasoned. “Let’s see about Sir Kneighf.” She put it into a google search but came up empty. “Hm… no.”

“Bupropion is an antidepressant, isn’t it?” Spencer offered.

Hotch stepped in quickly. “We don’t believe that bit is relevant.”

“Why not?” Morgan asked.

Hotch gave her a look that said,  _ this is on you now. _

“Gideon gets a baseball card of his baseball hero,” Lydia began. “JJ gets a butterfly that she was interested in when she was younger. I get the antidepressant my mom was taking when I was a kid.”

She tried not to speak sharply, but there was still a clear edge in her voice. She was frustrated that Hotch had read the medication out loud after she’d just told him that was the only personal part. But, he had to cover all his bases.  _ This was important,  _ she reminded herself.  _ A girl’s life was at stake. _

“Maybe it does have significance to the case,” she defended. “But so far, Nellie Fox and the butterfly were just ways to get the recipient interested. And this guy must know me well, because bupropion? Let’s just say, it caught my eye.”

Reid’s eyes were trained on the desk. He didn’t want to look up at her. He was beginning to feel guilty about his desire to learn about her past, seeing how closed off she became when forced to talk about it. It was clearly not full of a lot of happy memories for her.

Morgan next to him was simply confused. He knew not to push her, but he couldn’t quite piece together why anyone would care about their mother’s old medicine.

And Hotch was still focused on the label in front of him.

“I can’t keep staring at these,” she stressed to the group. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“Lydia-” Hotch started as she stood up and grabbed her jacket.

“I’m fine, Hotch,” she insisted. “I just… my brain is fried. I’m gonna take a minute and be back with fresh eyes.”

The rest of the room settled in guilt, despite the fact that, in the end, they would’ve had to talk about the prescription bottle with her. They needed to know, even if she hated it. Morgan had no idea it was a sore subject, Spencer, only an inkling, and Hotch was fully aware of what it represented in her mind.

But not a one of them could protect her from her past. And once Lydia had released some of her anger, she’d come to realize that, too.


	7. The Fisher King: Part 2 (S2E1)

When Lydia got back to the conference room, Spencer was the only one there. He stood directly in front of the whiteboard, murmuring to himself. He’d written ‘Possible Book Titles’ across the top, but so far had nothing listed.

“The rest of the team leave you to figure this out on your own?” she asked.

He startled slightly, not having heard her walk in. “Um, JJ and Morgan are going to interview Rebecca Bryant’s parents… and Hotch and Gideon are interviewing the guy who brought the numbers to Haley.”

“Someone found him?”

“He turned himself in,” Spencer explained. “So, now it’s just me and the evidence boards.”

“Now it’s  _ us  _ and the evidence boards,” she corrected. She sat down and picked up the medication bottle from the table. “Sorry I stormed out.”

“Sorry you were so stressed,” he mumbled. “We didn’t mean to push you.”

“You didn’t. It was important for you to know. I’m just… so done with this, you know?” She stopped herself. “Sorry, of course you do. You were on vacation when you got these weird messages. I was just home doing my schoolwork.”

“Lydia, stop apologizing,” he argued. “This is very stressful, we’ve all been here a long time, and you got a package delivered to your door. I can easily understand why that’d freak you out.”

She shrugged. “I just feel like I should be able to piece together these clues the unsub’s giving us and I can’t.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” he agreed, indicating to his empty list.

She looked over the label on the bottle in her hands. There was a patient name, a doctor’s name, drug, and an RX number. Prescription bottles always had more than that. They had instructions, pharmacies, manufacturers, fill dates, expiration dates.

“This number must mean something,” she wondered out loud. “He didn’t put any unnecessary information on it, but there’s a long RX number.”

“Read the number out loud,” Spencer told her.

He wrote it across the board as she went. “3-1-5-1-2-1-2-5-3-2-0-1-5-1-8”

“Okay,” he stepped back. “We can start with the basics. A equals 1, Z equals 26.” He got to work, writing the corresponding letter underneath the number.

C-A-E-A-B-A-B-E-C-B-

He stopped at the zero. “That’s definitely not a word. But some of the letters have double digits, so… let’s see if we combine everything we can combine…’C’ stays the same. The 1 and 5 could be fifteen, which is ‘O’...” He began again.

C-O-L-L-E-C-T-O-R

“Collector?” He stepped away. “That mean anything to you?”

Lydia shook her head.

“Alright. Collector. Collecting things. He’s collecting things.” He snapped his fingers so sharply Lydia almost jumped. “Collector! Baseball cards, music boxes, butterflies, skeleton keys. These are all things people collect!”

“That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

He shrugged. It was basically impossible at this point to rule anything out.

“Medieval,” she rambled. “Collectable things. Numerical codes. What else have we got?”

“We’ve got this note from the music box?” he offered. “I think I’ve heard it somewhere, but I can’t place it… And I think the book was published in 1963.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s the year on the baseball card, but it’s not the year Gideon went to all those games. If the unsub knows Gideon likes Nellie Fox because he went to almost all the White Sox games in 1959, why give him a ‘63 card?”

“Okay,” Lydia agreed. “So, the type of butterfly JJ got, that probably means something too, because she collected  _ butterflies _ , not pale clouded yellow butterflies.

He nodded. “Let’s get Garcia to look up some of these things and see if we find anything.”

She followed him out as he dashed towards Garcia’s office. He was very stiff and awkward when he was in a rush, she noticed, but he refused to run through the office. She was glad for it at the moment, seeing as with her foot, she probably couldn’t keep up with him, but it was almost comical, the way his feet skipped underneath him with repressed anticipation.

Garcia looked up when they walked in, then turned back to her computers. “This guy is infuriatingly good. He routed his IP through major corporations, crisscrossed it through countries, bounced it off satellites-”

“I thought you already tracked the hacker,” Spencer said, pausing behind her and glancing over her shoulder.

“No, I only found what he wanted me to find,” she huffed. “Apartment where Giles was dead. Reid, a hacker capable of getting into my systems is going to have amazingly sophisticated equipment. Did Giles’s apartment have that?”

“He didn’t have a couch,” he responded.

“Exactly. Giles was a smokescreen I should have seen through. But now I have this glorious program I wrote, tracking the hacker through his other identity: Sir Kneighf.”

“Sir  _ Kneighf? _ ” he cried.

Lydia’s eyes widened. “The doctor on the prescription bottle!”

“The what?” Garcia flipped her chair around and Reid leaned over to see the name on her screen

“K-N-E-I-G-H-F. That’s an odd spelling.”

She waved him away. “Do you need something?”

“Yeah, is there a database, which lists all the books published in a given year?”

“Individual publishers have lists, but I don’t think there’s anything like a master one. Plus it would depend upon the year, because the further back you go, the less likely there’ll be any database at all.”

“1963.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, ok, that would be an example of extremely less likely.”

He hummed in contemplation. “Could you do me a favor? Type something into a search engine for me?” She pulled herself back up to the keyboard. “‘Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man’s sight’.”

“Okay, that’s from a poem, ‘The Parliament of-’”

“Fowls!” He jumped in recognition. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Chaucer! My-” He hesitated. “My mom used to read me that. It’s widely considered as the first Valentine’s poem.”

Garcia chuckled. “Your mom read you Valentine’s poems? Hello, therapy.”

Lydia smacked her over the shoulder.

“Chaucer. Chaucer. ‘Parliament of Fowls’.” He began mumbling to himself again, trying to fit pieces together. “It has to be at least 283 pages long. Something published in 1963… A butterfly indigenous to Great Britain. Why? Something born. Something from Great Britain… Medieval. Chaucer. Chaucer was Middle English. Middle English spelling of the word Fowls… F-O-W-L-E-S…”

Lydia thought he was losing it, but somehow, this rambling was productive, because he blinked and ran back over to Garcia’s side.

“There- There was a contemporary british author-- Fowles. John Fowles. Will you type it into a search engine?”

“Uh… He wrote _ The Magus _ , he wrote  _ The French Lieutenant’s Woman _ -”

“Anything in 1963 published in Great Britain?”

She narrowed her search and her computer started beeping. “Yeah.  _ The Collector _ .”

Lydia wanted to scream.  _ Finally _ , they were on the right path. “Are you serious? The code on the bottle was the book title.”

Garcia clicked on the book and the cover photo showed up, which ruled out any chances of the book being a coincidence. Three objects were displayed underneath the title of the book: a butterfly, a skeleton key, and a blonde lock of hair.

“I’m gonna start calling libraries. We need a copy of that book immediately,” Lydia said, leaving abruptly.

~ ~ ~

“Hello, my name is Lydia Ambers, I work for the FBI. We’re in desperate need of a very specific book to help us on a recent case. We’re looking for a copy of  _ The Collector  _ by John Fowles, but it has to be a copy that was published by Jonathon Cape. Would you have any of those?”

Lydia followed Reid and Garcia to one of the interrogation rooms, to talk to Hotch and Gideon about their findings, but she was thoroughly distracted by her call and ended up stepping on their heels a few times accidentally.

“ _ According to our database, we should have two copies, but it’s going to take me a while to search for them. Can I call you back once I’ve found a copy? _ ”

“Yes, thank you.” She hung up and promptly tripped, falling between Reid and Garcia’s shoulders. She would have run directly into Gideon if Reid hadn’t grabbed her by the arm and held her up steady. “Sorry!”

She shuffled back behind her two friends and let them talk to Hotch and Gideon.

“We know what the book is,” Spencer explained. “ _ The Collector _ by John Fowles.”

“You sure?” Gideon demanded. They were both clearly on edge. Hotch had his arms crossed which didn’t look comfortable in his suit and Gideon was punchy. She didn’t fail to notice the way he and Garcia avoided each other's gazes, Garcia more than him. He was still pissed at her and she was probably thoroughly embarrassed. And hopefully, a little pissed too, because Lydia believed he’d been way too harsh on her.

“Not absolutely. Not until we see if the code works, but Lydia’s called four separate libraries to search for the 1963 edition published in Great Britain.”

“Well done,” Hotch complimented the group, tiredly.

“Agent Gideon,” a woman called, approaching the group of them, “there’s a call for you on line two. Says it’s extremely urgent.” 

“Is there a name?” he asked.

“Sort of. He calls himself the Fisher King.”

Lydia groaned before she could stop herself. Everyone raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry. The Fisher King is the one who guards the Grail. You know, the one that ‘Sir Percival’, over there is supposed to find.” She pointed at Reid, who was grabbing the notepad the woman had in her hands.

“This could be the unsub, guys,” he confirmed. “‘Sir Kneighf’ is an anagram for Fisher King.”

“The Fisher King is at the end of all Grail quests,” Gideon agreed.

They rushed to the bullpen, all crowding around a nearby phone.

“Line two trapped and traced,” Hotch demanded of one of the nearby agents and Gideon put it on speaker.

“Gideon.”

“ _ What I had to do was not my fault _ ,” the unsub replied, his harsh voice unmistakable.

“Excuse me?”

“ _ It was distasteful and barbaric. _ ”

“Who is this?”

“ _ No one else had to be hurt. _ ”

“Call yourself ‘The Fisher King’?” He was trying to throw the unsub off his rhythm. Gideon had been training her to speak to hostile people and profile what responses to give them, so she followed along his game.

This guy had clearly planned what he wanted to say and expected them to shut up and listen. If Gideon made him interrupt the strict script in his mind, he might slip up and give information he didn’t want to or forget his point.

“ _ I told you there were rules. _ ”

“I’m actually more interested in exactly how you got all those burns.” Different tactic. Make the unsub think we’re closer to catching him than he thinks.

“ _ Remember this next time you decide to step outside my instructions, _ ” he warned. “ _ Agent Greenaway did not have to die like that. _ ”

The phone buzzed as he hung up the call.

~ ~ ~

After many attempts at calling Elle, Hotch got ahold of Agent Anderson, who was in charge of taking her home. Anderson explained that Elle had been shot and the ambulance was on its way to a nearby hospital. And then, he and Gideon were off, leaving Lydia, Spencer, and Garcia to work on piecing together this mystery.

“Mrs. Valez, are you there?” Reid asked, putting the librarian who’d just called them back on speaker phone.

“ _ Yes, Dr. Reid. I am. I have a first edition of  _ The Collector,  _ published in Great Britain in 1963. _ ”

“Wonderful.” As they spoke Garcia cleared off room on the whiteboard to copy down the code. “Mrs. Valez, I’m going to read you a set of three numbers. The first is going to be a page number, the second a line number on that page, and the third, a word number in that line. Do you understand me?”

“ _ Yes, I understand. _ ”

“All right, the first is page 222.”

“ _ Page 222, got it. _ ”

“Line 23.”

“ _ Line 23. Got it. _ ”

“What is the 16th work on that line, Ms. Valez?”

“ _ The. _ ”

“The,” he repeated. “Great.”

Garcia wrote it up on the board and Lydia suddenly very much regretted not going along with Gideon and Hotch. But just in time to save the day, her phone started going off with a call from the unit chief.

She dismissed herself quickly and stepped outside to answer.

“How’s Elle?” she asked, figuring greetings could be dismissed for the time being.

“ _ She’s in surgery. Ambers, I need you to go to her house and look for any evidence you can find. And if you can, I need you to tell me what exactly happened when she got home. Anderson will meet you there. _ ”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get back to you when I have something.”

She quietly signalled to Reid that she was leaving before grabbing her FBI windbreaker and latex gloves and running off to the elevator. She hadn’t taken a company SUV since her first case (after which she learned she wasn’t supposed to be driving them on her own because she wasn’t supposed to be unsupervised while working), but she figured that, if caught, she would be forgiven, given the circumstances.

The street was littered with cop cars by the time she got there and it took a minute for them to recognize the car and jacket she was wearing and let her through. Once she had parked, she ran across the front lawn and inside, looking for Anderson. Right now, the only reason she hadn’t been thrown off the scene was her jacket and until Anderson arrived with his badge and the orders to clear the place, she was at the local PD’s mercy.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man called to her as she walked into the living room. She shut her eyes tightly. _ Damn it. _

“Hi. My name’s Lydia-”

“Ambers,” Anderson greeted her, stepping past the cops to speak to her. “CSU’s on the way, but Hotch wanted you to survey the scene before they processed it.” He turned back to the officer she was just speaking to. “Hello again, Detective Markes. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask your team to leave, as you’re currently on a crime scene under federal jurisdiction.”

As he went on to argue with the detective, Lydia flipped around to make her initial determinations. Elle had lost a lot of blood. Lydia could assume she’d been shot in the abdomen, because it was the only area of the body where she could survive long enough to get to the hospital and into surgery while she was losing blood at that rate. Elle had a comforted seat built into an indent in the wall where the blood trail started.

The coffee table was awkwardly placed in the center of the room, so the paramedics probably moved it to get to her. And from the marks on the carpet, it looks like they had to drag her body onto its back in order to perform CPR. Then, there was the looming note on her wall in blood:  _ RULES _ .

“Can I do anything to help?” Anderson asked. When Lydia looked up at him, it was clear to her that he’d been crying. His eyes were rimmed with red and his voice was shaky.

“Did the police tell you what happened?”

He nodded, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “There is evidence of forced entry on the back door. The unsub probably broke in and waited for her to get home before he shot her. She dialed 911 herself before she passed out. And her badge and gun are nowhere to be found.”

“She dialed 911 before she passed out?!” Lydia exclaimed. “Unless the unsub let her… but no, he thought she was dead. He was in the room with her and wrote in her-” Lydia took in a deep breath and started to put her gloves on. “Try something with me, Anderson.”

~ ~ ~

“ _ What did you find? _ ”

“CSU lifted a partial print from the unsub’s message,” Lydia told Hotch, driving back to Quantico.

“ _ What message? _ ”

“Rules,” she responded. “This is about the press conference.”

He sighed. “ _ Did they get anything from the print? _ ”

“They aren’t sure if it will be enough, but they’re running it through their systems now.”

“ _ Good. And what did  _ you  _ find? _ ”

Lydia’s breath hitched. “Me?”

“ _ I asked you if you could figure out what happened. How did the unsub get the upper hand and shoot Elle? _ ”

Lydia glanced at her phone, which was on speaker beside her, as if Hotch would be there looking sternly back.

“Here’s my theory,” she began. “We know he broke in through the back door and waited in the house. If he was in the dining room, he would have been able to hear her set her stuff down and lie on the couch. Now with her eyes closed, he’s able to walk into the room and aim a gun at her before she can react. At some point, Elle makes a move off the couch and he shoots her. The blood pattern indicates she was falling when she got hit. That makes me think her gun was on the table across from her. But anyway, she’s shot and is lying on her side, between the seat and the table. Elle has got to have an insanely high pain tolerance, because she was still conscious when he wrote on the walls in her blood. But somehow, she had him convinced she had died when he left. Then, she calls 911 and passes out.”

“ _ Good work, Lydia. When all this is over, we need to talk. _ ”

Her phone beeped to indicate he had hung up and it took everything in her not to pull over and call him back immediately.

_ A talk? What the hell did that mean? _

~ ~ ~

When Lydia finally made her way back to the bullpen, she was exhausted. So, it was a bit of a relief to see Spencer there at his desk, simply toying with a pencil between his fingers.

“Did you go to Elle’s house?” he asked, softly, as she took off her jacket and placed it on her desk.

“Yeah… It’s a crime scene.”

He nodded, understanding what she meant. It was bloody.

“How did the book code go? Did it work?” she inquired.

“‘The path to the end began at his start to find her first calm her long broken heart’,” he recited. “‘She sits in a window with secrets from her knight. Is it adventure that keeps him out of her sight?’”

“Any clue what it means?”

Reid opened his mouth to explain, but Garcia approached and started talking to him. “She’s okay,” she said, sitting on the edge of his desk. “Your mom. Agents picked her up.”

“Your mom?” Lydia startled. “What happened?”

The panic in Garcia’s eyes was evident. “Lydia! Sorry, I didn’t even realize you were back yet.” Her eyes darted between the two of them. “I’ll… I’m gonna go now.”

“No, no, no!” she assured her. “It’s fine. If this is private, I can leave.”

“It’s not private.” Spencer looked slightly amused by the anxiety both girls felt, but it didn’t last long. “It’s… pertinent to the case.”

“Is everything okay?” Lydia asked him, standing up next to Garcia at his desk, so that the conversation didn’t drift around the room.

“She’s flying here right now,” Garcia explained, and Reid nodded, looking down at an evidence bag.

It was the poem they’d found in the music box. The valentine’s one that he’d said his mom read him.

“I forgot she used to always read me this poem.” He sighed. “It’s funny, huh?”

“Funny?” Garcia asked.

“I should have realized this sooner,” he admitted. “I mean, nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collects butterflies except for me. People tell me their secrets all the time. I think it’s ‘cause they know I don’t have anyone to betray them to… except my mother. I- I tell her pretty much everything.”

“I don’t think anyone would mind,” she grinned.

“Do you know that I write her a letter everyday?” he continued.

Garcia’s eyes watered slightly, but her smile didn’t let up. “That’s nice.”

“It depends on  _ why  _ I write her.” His eyebrow furrowed. His demeanor had changed considerably and Lydia started to piece together what she had missed.

This unsub had gotten all this info on them from his mom. Maybe he’d been stealing her letters or just talking to her, but he knew her and that’s why Reid was bringing her to Quantico.

“What do you mean?” Garcia asked.

“I write her letters so I won’t feel so guilty about not visiting her.”

The girls exchanged a look. Reid had just been in Las Vegas. He said he was going home. So, why was he claiming he didn’t visit her?

“Did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?” he asked, randomly.

At least, she thought it was random. Until Garcia gasped under her breath. She excused herself quickly, leaving Lydia with the fidgeting doctor.

“Spencer, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she spoke up. She kept her voice low and her town concerned, undemanding.

He was clearly on edge. He wouldn’t look up at her, eyes focused on the poem in his hands. “‘The path to the end begins at his start’... I’m the ‘him’. And my start is my mom. So, she’s the key to lead us to the Grail. ‘She sits in a window with secrets from her knight’. The doctors tell me my mother loves to sit by the window and read my letters.” He dropped the bag suddenly and clasped his hands together. “Lydia, my mom is a paranoid schizophrenic who lives in a mental hospital.”

His knuckles started turning white and the muscles in his arms shifted under pressure. He was getting tense. Lydia knew exactly what he was doing. Normally, when she felt her anger manifest itself physically, she would excuse herself to blow off steam, but something told her Reid wasn’t about to find an empty hallway and start punching the walls.

But even with that knowledge, she never would have consciously done what she did to calm him. Her impulses took over and one of her hands reached out and settled itself on top of his fists. She bent down slightly, not forcing herself into his line of sight, but making it easier for him to turn to her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That must be hard on you… does the rest of the team know?”

He shook his head, turning one of his palms over to hold onto her fingers. Lydia’s heart sped up, but she swallowed down her feelings. He was looking for comfort, not a relationship. Besides, they weren’t even holding hands, really. He was just grazing his thumbs over her knuckles.

“Lydia,” he began, finally meeting her gaze. “Earlier you left because Hotch brought up your mom…”

_ Here it comes.  _ She braced herself for the inevitable question.

“...and when you came back, you had bruised knuckles.”

She almost choked on her own saliva.  _ He wasn’t going to ask about her mom? And how had he even noticed that? _

Awkwardly, she slipped her fingers out of his grasp. “I wasn’t hitting anything alive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she informed him, suddenly closing off again. “I just had to let off some steam.”

“Lydia, I wasn’t insinuating anything-”

“It’s fine, Spencer,” she replied, far too quickly. “If you need any help with anything before your mom gets here, let me know. And if I get any updates from Hotch or Gideon, I’ll tell you.”

He spun his chair around in an attempt to stop her, but she was already leaving, trying to look dignified as she walked into the conference room. She didn’t want to make him feel guilty when he was already dreading his mom’s arrival, but she couldn’t have that conversation when there was work to do.

It wasn’t until she was staring at the evidence boards that she realized, there really wasn’t any work to do.

_ What was she running from? _

~ ~ ~

After hours of pacing and repeating the clues the unsub had given them outloud, Lydia had ended up back at her desk, absolutely drained. She pushed everything aside and lay her head down. She’d just been… off today. 

She felt so guilty about abandoning Spencer. He needed more help than she did. His mother was involved in a murder case and probably wasn’t stable enough to look out for herself. And Lydia was just wallowing in her past.

She had no right to do that to him.

So, what was it? As far as she knew, Spencer didn’t even know her mom was dead. He had no idea what the mention of her mother could do to her. He wasn’t pressuring her to tell him about it. And even more so, she’d never struggled to tell anyone her mother was dead before. Her first day in Quantico, she told Gideon and Garcia.

Lydia rarely talked about the cause of her mom’s death. If that’s what the team needed to know, then she could forgive herself for being on edge, but they didn’t. No one had asked her to say out loud how her mother had died. And if they did need to know, Hotch, Gideon, or Garcia could probably tell them. Her mother’s death was definitely in Garcia’s files.

What is it? She asked herself. What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just-?

“Lydia!” Garcia cried. Her head shot up to watch the blonde woman running by, making a beeline for the conference room.

She ran after her, just catching up as she opened the door and grabbed the attention of Spencer and an older woman with a pixie cut.

“Reid, I got to the end of the IP string,” Garcia started, barely even noticing the other presence in the room. “Sir Kneighf? The Fisher King? His name is Randal Garner. He’s Rebecca Bryant’s biological father.”

~ ~ ~

Once the air in the room had settled, Spencer introduced the other woman as his mother, Diana Reid, before quickly distracting them with work. Lydia sensed that he didn’t want his mother to be a part of the conversation.

Lydia stepped aside to call Hotch, listening to their conversation as she explained to him what they’d found.

“Our file says that Rebecca’s father’s name is Joseph Bryant,” Spencer argued. “Who’s Randal Garner?”

“Rebecca’s mother and brothers died in a fire when she was four and her father was so badly burned that he couldn’t take care of her, so he gave up parental rights and she was adopted by the Bryants,” Garcia informed them.

“ _ Okay, _ ” Hotch responded over the phone, pulling her back to the conversation she was having. “ _ I’ll tell Gideon and be there soon. Find out everything you can on this guy. _ ”

“Doing that as we speak,” she replied, putting her phone back into her pocket.

“I can’t believe she’s real,” Diana mumbled.

The three of them trained their eyes on her.

“What do you mean?” Garcia asked.

“Whenever he talked about Rebecca, he never said she was his daughter.” She said all this directly to her son, her stance nervous, almost defensive. “He said all his children died in the fire. He spoke of  _ a _ Rebecca, more in the abstract. I really thought she was a metaphor and not an actual human being. An ideal.”

“A grail,” Reid said, confirming her thoughts. This man honestly didn’t see her as his daughter anymore. His daughter had died. And this girl was a prize to be won. “He thinks he’s the Fisher King.”

“Who does?” Morgan asked, entering with JJ.

“Randal Garner, our unsub,” Spencer responded.

“He believes you’re all modern-day knights of the round table,” Diana explained, gesturing around the room.

Derek raised a hand and they could see his question about who this woman was coming a mile away.

“Uh, Derek Morgan, this is my mother, Diana Reid.” Spencer ran around the table to step between his colleague and his mom.

“This is your mother?” He pointed at the woman almost accusingly, but seeing Spencer’s tight smile, pulled back and said, “Ma’am it’s a… it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Finally, the last of their group stormed in, Hotch’s footsteps audible from across the bullpen. “So, where are we on finding this son of a bitch?” he demanded.

“Gideon?” Lydia inquired.

“Hospital.”

Everyone sat down around the table in time with one another.

“I rechecked all the clues,” Spencer began. “There’s nothing that points to an address.”

“The adoption records for Rebecca listed an address of the fire, so I made a call to Nevada, and it’s vacant. No one ever rebuilt,” JJ continued.

“Nevada?” Hotch scoffed. “So we don’t even know what state he’s in?”

“I’ll search the tax records,” Garcia offered. “See if he owns any property.”

“Excuse me,” Diana said, catching the attention of the team. She was leaning forward in her seat in the corner of the room.

“Mom, do you want to wait out-” Spencer started, trying to usher her out of the room, but She was already making a move towards Hotch.

“Just before the agents got me from the hospital,” she fumbled for something in her purse, “a man delivered this to me. It’s a photo of a house with an address on the back.”

She held it up for them to see the scrawl on the back of the card:  _ 1024 Winston Dr., Shiloh, VA. 22485. _

“Shiloh, Virginia?” Morgan muttered. “That’s only ten miles from here.”

She flipped over the photo. The house looked more like a castle, with multiple stories and barred windows. It was made with gray bricks and black roof tiles with a circular extension that looked like a tower.

The team filed out quickly, with the exception of Spencer, who was telling his mom to stay put until he got back.

Garcia ran back to her office and Lydia sat at her desk, still unable to go on raids with them.

_ Almost over, _ she told herself.  _ This whole thing is almost over. _

~ ~ ~

“ _ We’re sending Rebecca to the hospital now and then we’ll be back _ ,” Hotch informed her. “ _ Any news from Gideon? _ ”

“Elle just got out of surgery. Doctors say she’s gonna be fine.” It was already the next morning and Lydia couldn’t wait to go back to her apartment and sleep for the rest of the day. “Randal Garner?”

“ _ Dead _ ,” he responded and Lydia didn’t bother to ask how or why. “ _ Why don’t you start clearing off those evidence boards? _ ”

“Yes, sir.” She put her phone down and walked up to the round table room.

When she got inside, she startled to see someone else there. Spencer’s mom sat on the sofa underneath the window and was writing something in one of the journals she brought with her. She hadn’t seemed to notice Lydia walk in.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Reid,” Lydia started, politely, walking over to the evidence boards. “I forgot you were still here.”

After a second of silence, Lydia got to work, making piles of evidence, pictures, and all the pins they had used. She didn’t take the woman’s silence personally, knowing that schizophrenia could cause dissociation. She figured she’d leave her to her journaling for now.

As she was finishing up, however, the woman looked up at her, an eyebrow raised. “Is it time for lunch yet?” she inquired.

“What?” Lydia asked softly.

“I’m lecturing everyone on Tristan and Iseult,” she explained, scanning her journal suddenly like an analysis paper. “They’re all gathering in my room after lunch.”

Lydia was intrigued. Clearly, Diana was not in touch with reality and Lydia wasn’t sure how best to deal with it, but her curiosity won over her common sense.

She wanted to know who Tristan and Iseult were.

“I’m here to attend the lecture, ma’am.” She smiled and sat down on the floor, like a kindergartener.

“Let’s get started, then.” She went on to talk about the basis of the myth: Tristan was sent to bring Iseult back to his uncle, King Mark of Cornwell, with whom she was to marry. On their journey however, they consumed a love potion (whether or not they were aware had varied throughout history) and fell for one another. They were forced to have an affair behind Mark’s back, despite them both holding a lot of respect for the king, because the effects of the potion were too strong for them to ignore. When the king caught them, he sentenced them both to death, but Tristan escaped and saved Iseult and they ran off together. When King Mark finally found them again, Tristan agreed to give Iseult back to the king and flee Cornwell so long as neither of them would be harmed. And eventually, he found another young woman named Iseult and married her instead.

Diana was just beginning to explain how this compared the Arthurian legend and the love triangle between King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and Guinevere, when Spencer walked in.

“Mom, we found her. Rebecca’s safe.” The two women turned their heads to the newcomer and Spencer flushed, seeing Lydia sitting quietly on the floor across from his mother. “Lydia! I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Young man, we are in the middle of a lecture,” she reprimanded. “May I ask why you’ve so rudely interrupted us?”

Lydia covered her mouth to suppress a laugh and Spencer looked shocked by his mother’s scolding. “What?”

“I am giving a lecture on Tristan and Iseult,” she repeated, impatiently. “Are you here to attend or do you want to just keep standing there and gawking?”

He seemed to understand his mother’s headspace, but his confusion returned when he remembered Lydia. She gestured for him to sit with her, smugly, and turned back to Diana. “You can continue Mrs. Reid, he was just late.”

“Has he read any of the material?” she asked, suspiciously.

Lydia raised an eyebrow at Spencer, teasing him despite the fact that she definitely had not read whatever it was that Diana would have previously assigned.

His face was gentle, almost unsure, and slowly he sat down besides Lydia. “I’ve had them read  _ to  _ me.”

Lydia knew he was talking about his mother. He’d grown up listening to her read valentine’s poems and old mythology. It was honestly really touching and she wondered if she should leave them to have a moment together but couldn’t bring herself to get up.

“Wonderful,” Diana sighed. “That’s the best way, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am. By far.”

They sat there for a few more minutes, listening to her thoughts and analysis of different versions of the story. Lydia would glance over at him at times, checking to see if he was still smiling, which he always was. Sometimes he’d catch her in the act and they’d share a look of amusement before turning their focus back to their temporary teacher.

Unfortunately, it had to come to a sudden end when Hotch walked in.

“Ambers.” His tone was serious. “I was worried you’d left. I need to speak with you.”

Lydia could see Diana’s frustration at yet another interruption, so she quickly stood up.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Mrs. Reid,” she apologized, shuffling out behind her boss.

He nodded for her to follow him to his office.  _ Was this about what he said earlier? They needed to have a talk? _

She wondered if it was possibly the fact she took out an SUV again despite being informed not to after the last time. Or it could be about her harsh comments that morning towards Gideon and around Haley. Or even worse, about her mom and how she stormed away.

She sat across from him, waiting for his exasperated voice to come through, but it didn’t.

“Lydia, I think we need to have a discussion about your future,” he started, unexpectedly. “I created an internship into the team for you because we’ve never had the need for a forensics expert before, but for these past several months, you’ve been an incredible help. You’re knowledgeable in crime scene analysis, lab work, and, as you proved today, profiling. So, I’ve brought you here to tell you that I’ve discussed with Chief Strauss the possibility of giving you a full-time job in the BAU and she has agreed to speak with you and myself about creating you a position as a government contractor. You can’t apply to be an agent until you’re 23, but I want to be able to lift the restrictions on you and have your help on the cases I see as necessary. If Strauss likes you, you’ll be allowed to make calls for yourself, carry a badge, take the gun qualifications tests, and work without agent supervision, which if she asks, you haven’t been doing already. Would you be interested in such a position?”

She blinked, completely floored by the offer. “Agent Hotchner, I… wait, ‘proved today’?”

It was not what she wanted to say in the moment, but it had thrown her off slightly.

“Today, you walked onto a crime scene and told me an hour later exactly what had happened. You could identify when and from where the unsub entered the room, how Elle was positioned when she got shot, and what happened between then and her call to 911. Yes, I asked you to go there as a scientist and to look for evidence, but when I asked what you thought had happened, you became a profiler and you’re clearly fit to join the team. Again, you becoming a profiler is something we can discuss but not act on for another year, so hopefully contracted work is okay with you.”

“Okay with me?” she laughed. “That sounds amazing. So, just like I’ve been doing in the past, I’ll only be called in when you want me on a case and not for any office work?”

He nodded. “This is dependent on Strauss’s approval, but yes, that’s what we discussed.”

Lydia grinned. “So, how does one get Strauss’s approval?”

~ ~ ~

Lydia didn’t get back to her apartment until around 6 AM and promptly slept for most of the day. She was startled awake by her ringtone in the early afternoon and prepared herself for Hotch to ask her to come back in, but it wasn’t him. Interestingly enough, it was Spencer whose name popped up on her screen.

“Hello?” she answered, sitting back against her headboard.

“ _ Hey, Lydia. Sorry, I’m sure you’re still exhausted after everything. I would have waited a few days to call you, but if I don’t do this now, I’m not sure I ever will. _ ”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Is everything alright, Spencer? Did you make it to Las Vegas okay?”

By the time she’d finished talking with Hotch, Spencer had left with his mom and she’d heard that he was planning to fly with her back to the sanitarium, because she had a fear of planes. After everything, she expected him to stay with his mother for a few days, so she hadn’t thought she’d be hearing from him anytime soon.

“ _ Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be back in DC tomorrow. But I have something to admit to you. I didn’t realize this earlier, but I know why Randal Garner sent you what he did. _ ”

Lydia’s breath hitched. “What do you mean? Have you… did Garcia tell you?”

How did he know? Maybe he’d just guessed with the whole scene she made about the bupropion. Garcia had told her that she wouldn’t spill any of her secrets. But would Hotch or Gideon tell him what happened to her mom?

“ _ What? Garcia didn’t tell me anything. I think you should wait for me to explain, so that you don’t accidentally tell me something you don’t want me to know. _ ” His tone was joking, but there was a wavering nervousness that she could hear over the line. “ _ Lydia, when you worked that poisoning case… on the jet back the whole rest of the team was asleep and you had a conversation with Hotch. You said that seeing an orange prescription bottle made you angry because it reminded you of your mother… I overheard that _ .”

She waited a minute for him to go on. She thought for certain he was going to say he’d figured her whole past out. He was going to tell her that he’d profiled her fidgets and glances and found out every last detail of her mom’s death, but he didn’t. That was all.

“That’s okay, Spencer,” she reassured him. “It wasn’t… I’m not keeping secrets from the team, I just don’t really like to talk about it.”

She faintly heard him huff, frustratedly. “ _ No, I mean, the unsub got all this information on us from my mom. From all the stuff I’d tell her about my team… I told her about you, _ ” he admitted. “ _ I told her about how I’d overheard that conversation and I’m so sorry that you had to go through all this because of me. _ ”

Lydia’s fingers ghosted lightly over her face as she processed this and shut her eyes tightly. It didn’t bother her as much as she’d thought it would, in fact, she didn’t seem to mind at all. The only thing on her mind when he said that was her stupid crush and the fact that he’d been writing to his mom about her.

She shook it aside. He talked about the whole team. It wasn’t a big thing. But… the unsub had, in his fantasy, assigned them two characters who were in love…

“I really appreciate the thought Spencer, but this isn’t your fault. I never said anything to Hotch about the bupropion, so you couldn’t have known about that. The unsub probably just did some research on me or looked through my files. Even if he chose the bottle because of your letters, he had everything else to torment me. Please don’t put this on yourself or your mom.”

He hesitated. “ _ Are you sure you don’t hate me? _ ”

“I can change my mind if you’d prefer,” she laughed.

He joined her for a moment, but fell silent far too fast. Lydia suddenly racked her brain for whatever she’d done to cause him to freeze, but hadn’t come up with anything before he spoke up again.

“ _ Hey, Lydia? When I get back to DC, do you, uh… want to get something to eat? _ ”

Lydia’s heart stopped. She wasn’t a profiler and definitely not an expert on asking people out, but she wasn’t about to let this crush rot in her brain. These past few days were torture enough. “You mean, like a date?” she prompted.

Bad move on her part. He flipped suddenly trying to deny it and she had to interrupt him before he hung up on her in mortification. He was so flustered she wasn’t even sure he was speaking English.

“Spencer. Spencer!”

He tried to mumble a quick apology, but she wasn’t about to let him close off just like that.

“Spencer, I’m not going to get food with you  _ unless  _ it’s a date. I don’t play mind games like that.”

“ _ You wha- So, you’d like to- I’m sorry, it’s just… Mind games? _ ” he finally spit out.

He was a funny one. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen so quickly for some dork. When she was a kid and all the other girls would ask her ‘What do you want your future boyfriend to be like?’ she never recalled saying, ‘A real mess. Just a true goof.’

“Yes, Spencer,” she responded. “Mind games. Getting food together could easily be misinterpreted as a date and I  _ want  _ to go on a date with you. But if we’re going to do that, we need to both be on the same page about it. If we go get something to eat, will it be a date or are you just suggesting it to be nice?”

“ _ I would like that. I mean, yeah… it’d be a date. If you want! I don’t wanna pressure you or- are you sure that a date is- _ ”

“I’m still fairly new to the Virginia-DC area,” Lydia interrupted, knowing that if he wasn’t able to form a complete sentence, he’d just keep starting new ones. “Is there anywhere in particular you want to go?”

“ _ Um… well, what do you like? _ ”

A grin graced her face, glad to hear him finally calming down. “I’m sure whatever you like I’ll enjoy as well.”

_ This was it. She’d scored herself a date with the bumbling boy genius. _


	8. Keeping a Secret

“You nervous?” Lydia whispered as she walked past her fidgeting date for the evening. “The-always-punctual-Dr-Reid?”

He jumped, looking at her with rounded eyes. “Uh… hey!”

A smile tugged at her lips.  _ God, he looked so small sitting there. _ He was  _ actually  _ terrified.

“Hey.”

“How’s, uh… How’s your schoolwork going?” He was blinking at a rapid rate as if he couldn’t believe she was there. As if any minute now, she’d disappear and he’d once more be alone at a table for two.

“It’s been good. I’ve been putting off on stuff for the past few days after… everything. So, I’ll need to catch up. Hopefully, by then, I’ll have your help again.”

“You don’t need my help,” he argued.

She could tell he was new at this. So was she, of course, but she’d known Spencer for some time now. It’d been almost a full year since she met him and they’d been working together for over seven months. She figured this would be like any other time they’d met. She just had to show him that them going out together didn’t change anything.

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe not. But I enjoy being with you.”

Finally, he let go of some of his jitteriness. “I was so happy you wanted my help,” he admitted. “I couldn’t wait to hang out with you.”

“Me too.” She stuck out her tongue, teasingly. “I’m glad we can hang out now without the pretense of me needing help.”

“Lydia is this all… I’m just not sure I really believe that you wanted to go out with me.” He fumbled over his words, a pink flush gracing his cheeks.

“Spencer, I’m pretty sure my exact words were ‘I’m not going out with you unless-’”

“‘I’m not going to  _ get food _ with you unless it’s a date’,” he corrected. “I know, but maybe you knew I wanted to ask you out and only said that to make me feel better.”

Before she could think better of it, she reached across the table to grab his hand and said, “You gave me a book of Sherlock Holmes stories and told me I reminded you of the main character. Believe me, you’ve had my whole heart since that moment.”

His words caught in his throat and his eyes travelled down to their piled hands. Just as he had when she’d done that the last time, he slowly flipped his hand over, so that her fingers rested in his palm and his thumb could slide over her knuckles. For a moment, he hovered over the ring that she wore when she was off work. The one she’d told him belonged to her father.

“Have you read any of them?” he asked, softly.

“Of course. I was going to call you to discuss them, but you were on vacation so I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You couldn’t have bothered me,” he insisted. “I was happy to get your call… until I found out what it was about.”

“Yeah… that last case was tough. But at least some good came out of it!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like…?”

“Hotch offered me a job.”

His jaw dropped. “He did? You're going to be working with us full-time now?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. But I won’t be an intern anymore and I’ll have more freedoms. I still have to convince Strauss I’m fit for the team, but after that, I’ll be contracted out for cases. I’m like your guys’s hireable forensic expert!”

He squeezed Lydia’s hand gently. “That’s amazing!”

They settled into comfortable conversation for the rest of the night. The food was great, as she figured it would be since Spencer liked the restaurant so much, and when they were finished, he offered to walk her home.

The spring air was still cold and she wasn’t used to the temperature compared to California. They walked in silence for most of the night, Lydia looking around at the buildings. All the months she’d been living there and she really hadn’t taken the time to commit anything nearby to memory. But now that she was planning on taking up Hotch’s offer, Virginia could end up being a permanent home.

_ Oh god, Rebecca was going to kill her _ , she thought suddenly.  _ She was going to insist she was abandoning her like their parents had. _

_ Abandoned. _ She hated to think of it that way, but that’s why her and her sister had always stuck so close. They were all they had left.

“Hey, Spencer?” she began, nervously. “Do you  _ want  _ to know what happened to my mom?”

“Lydia, you don’t owe me-”

“No,” she interrupted. “I’m okay with telling you, I promise. There’s no… pressure on me to say, but I…” She sighed. “I feel like someone should know. And I don’t mean ‘know’ as in read the new articles Garcia came across when she did a background check on me. I mean understand.” She looked down at her hands and Spencer knew without even looking, that she was twisting her ring around her finger like she was winding up a toy. “It was kind of a… complicated matter.”

“Complicated?”

“My mom was bipolar. I don’t remember a lot about her, but of what I  _ do  _ picture, it’s almost like I had two mothers. When she was on a decline, she wasn’t anything like my mother. She was hollow and distant and I couldn’t understand it.

“And, when I was ten… I was the one to find her body. She’d overdosed on her meds. Bupropion to be exact. And it became somewhat popular around town, because no one could tell if it was a suicide or an accident… I don’t even know. Local papers were speculating about it and some people even thought it could have been a murder.

“People wouldn’t leave us alone for the longest time, trying to find evidence that proved their theories. It was really hard on my dad and, of course, that’s approximately when my anger issues started to manifest and I was acting out and being a real piece of shit. So, you know, no help. And the doctors basically said that that was the first sign of her giving her depression to me.”

His eyes started to water. “Lydia-”

“I’m not telling you this because I think it makes us even, Spencer. Sharing your past isn’t like trading cards. But, after finding out about your mom, I wanted you to know that I understand. I really do. You’re terrified of turning out like her. And you feel guilty, because you love your mother, even with her disorder. But watching her live with it for all those years and-” She stopped herself, feeling her own emotions get the better of her. “I don’t think I’m strong enough. If I turn into that… I don’t think I’ll survive.”

She shut her eyes and stopped walking, waiting for him to tell her that she was wrong about him. Maybe she didn’t really understand. She’d assumed a lot and there were so many different factors, but it  _ felt  _ the same. When he talked about his mom, she recognized those emotions.

“Lydia?”

His voice was controlled. Almost forced. She worried he was holding back anger. But after cautiously cracking an eye open, she realized it was tears. He was close to crying. And to be honest, so was she, although none had fallen from either of the pair.

“Can I hug you?”

She tried to muffle a little gasp, before nodding.

His arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into his warm chest and she snaked her arms underneath his jacket to hold him closer. He smelled clean, like detergent, and she had to keep herself from rubbing her face into his soft shirt.

Telling someone about her mother’s death was never going to be easy for Lydia. She hadn’t expected it to be. But Spencer was one of the first people who wasn’t treating her like an alien. She’d lost someone. People die all the time. It hurts like a bitch, but 12 years later and she still could feel a weird air around the topic. No one wanted to bring up what her mother’s death meant for her.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “For listening. And for putting up with me before this when I dodged the subject.”

“When I found you sitting on the floor of the conference room, listening to my mom,” he said, his hold on her not letting up, “I was blown away. I’d never seen anyone other than her doctors be able to talk to her so cleanly. When people realize she’s different, they tiptoe around her like she’s dangerous. And really, she’s not. She never has been, not to anyone else. She’s just… strange.”

“We’re all a little strange,” she comforted, pulling back to look at him, but neither one of them dropping their arms around the other. “And she was absolutely brilliant. No wonder you turned out to be a prodigy.”

He grinned. “She used to be a great literature professor before her mental state began deteriorating. She’d read me historic poetry and writings. I didn’t think anyone in the world could be as amazing as my mom.”

“I can believe it,” she told him sincerely.

They stood there for a moment, then walked the rest of the way to her apartment, arms still wrapped around one another like they were a life raft.

“Do people normally talk about their moms’ mental illnesses on their first date?” Spencer asked, his tone completely serious. “I feel like we jumped the ‘what’s your favorite color’ questions.”

“My favorite color is green,” she informed him. “And this is just a guess, but I don’t think anything about our relationship is or will ever be normal, Spencer. Romantic or not.”

He glanced at her, questioningly. “Is that okay?”

“Perfect.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia’s meeting with Strauss was set a few days later and it went well. At least, according to Hotch, it did. Strauss was… terrifying.

Lydia was ready to collapse from stress as she followed Hotch out of their superior’s office, but once they were a few feet away, he confided that she’d answered all of Strauss’s questions appropriately and fully which was all they could ask for.

“She looked so annoyed,” Lydia admitted, quietly. “I thought I was on trial, not applying for a job.”

“Strauss is…” He hesitated, not sure how to put it lightly. “She can seem like that at times,” he decided.

She nodded, the two of them finally reaching the bullpen. “Well, call me if you hear anything.”

“You too,” he replied before walking away to his office.

Lydia stepped down into the bullpen, deciding to stay a few minutes before heading home. She had something to ask Spencer and if she got this job, she might have to do some more training, which would mean a little while out of the field.

“Hey, kiddo,” Morgan called with a smile as she stepped down.

“Not sure I appreciate the nickname, Derek.”

Spencer spun around at the sound of her voice, but didn’t say anything.

“I call pretty boy here ‘kid’ all the time and technically, he’s not the youngest anymore,” Morgan argued, Lydia stepping up next to them at their joined desk. “You’ve got him beat by three years.”

“Two,” Lydia fired back. “I turned 22 two months ago.

“Oo, a big girl,” he teased. “Tie your own shoes and everything?”

“Why? Do you need help?”

“Sugar!” Garcia cried, entering the bullpen from the opposite direction. “What are you doing here?”

“Spice!” Lydia held out her arms to pull her in for a brief hug.

Garcia gasped in her ear. “I love the nickname,” she said, pulling away. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh,” Lydia sighed, brushing her hair back. “I’m not sure if this is on the downlow or not, but I was interviewing for a job!”

“What?” Morgan demanded, setting his mug of coffee down firmly. “You’re thinking about leaving us?”

“No!” Garcia argued too. “Who wants you? I’ll sabotage your chances!”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s scary, because I’m certain you could. Quite easily. But if you don’t want me getting this job, you’ll have to take it up with Hotch or Strauss.”

“Wait a minute,” she said. “You mean it’s a job here? At the BAU?”

“It’ll be no different than before,” Lydia promised. “I’m not here for every case. Hotch just thought it was time I had more freedoms and he’s trying to convince Strauss of that too. I don’t know why anyone would entrust me with that, but if Strauss agrees, I get to carry a gun, so that’s cool.”

“That sounds terrifying,” Morgan disagreed. “Don’t act so excited about getting to use deadly weapons.”

“Noted.” Lydia winked at him and he smirked back. “How’s Elle doing?”

“She’s back home,” Spencer said, speaking up for the first time since she got there. “She won’t be allowed back in the field for a few months, though.”

“That really sucks,” she grumbled. “I saw her place and there was no getting that blood out. She probably had to get the carpet replaced and the wall repainted. And I told Hotch this, but it must have been excruciating.”

“Why’s that?” Morgan asked.

“He wrote on the walls in her blood,” Lydia cried. “How did he get that blood?”

“You think he stuck his fingers into the bullet hole?”

Garcia’s face paled. “Oh no, please don’t say it.”

“He had to.”

Garcia’s hand covered her mouth at Lydia’s words. “Oh god, you said it. I’m gonna be sick.”

The woman scurried off, leaving Lydia with the two profilers. “Sorry, I wouldn’t think Garcia would be squeamish.”

“Very,” Morgan informed her, standing up. “I need more coffee. Be right back.”

Lydia gave him a halfhearted wave, letting him leave before turning on Spencer.

“You’re quiet,” she said, bluntly. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t think I’d see you today.” He shrugged, but Lydia could see straight through him. “I thought you’d be too busy.”

“Yeah… Or you were hoping you wouldn’t see me,” she accused and he panicked.

“It’s not because of you-!” he blurted out.

“You don’t want to tell the team we’re dating,” she figured, interrupting him. “You thought I’d spill the beans.”

“I’m scared!”

“Of telling them? Or of them knowing?”

“Both? I mean, what if you decide I’m a bad boyfriend? I’m not sure I could face the humiliation of them knowing you broke my heart.”

“I doubt you could be a bad boyfriend if you tried,” she argued. “But okay, we can wait as long as you’d like. They are profilers, though. You think they’re going to know?”

He shook his head. “As long as we aren’t holding hands around the bullpen or anything… Everybody's already super close, so us talking is totally normal. They might think I’m crushing on you, but Garcia already caught onto that.”

“Garcia what?” Lydia clamped her teeth shut over her lips to keep from laughing at him, but it didn’t help much. “She profiled that you liked me?”

“Yeah…” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“How long has she known?” Lydia demanded. 

“Since… our first case together.”

She didn’t even try to stop her laugh this time. “Dude, there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide this from the team. But I mean, I’m more than happy to try.”

His face turned bright red. “You really think they’re going to figure it out?”

She shrugged, calming herself before Morgan could get back and ask what she was laughing about. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll turn out to be great at keeping a secret.”


	9. The Boogeyman (S2E6)

Lydia had been right about one thing: after Strauss cleared her to take Hotch’s job offer, she didn’t end up going on a case for months. She went through what was, essentially, the FBI Academy, making sure she was prepared for any sort of field work that fell upon her while she was on a case.

Upon graduation, she made Hotch promise that she’d never have to go through anything like that again. It was brutal. But on the bright side, by her 23rd birthday, if she so chose, she could become an agent. That was quite the accomplishment for her.

The summer was finishing up and Lydia was preparing for her 3rd semester of her graduate program, with Spencer’s help, of course. He’d been an angel for the past three months. And somehow, no one seemed to have caught on to their secret relationship.

It was so nice. What she felt with Spencer was unlike anything she’d been a part of before. He was sweet and made her laugh and kept her engaged. And he understood her. He allowed her to speak openly about her mother and father, though she hardly did. When she explained to him that her and her sister ended up in a foster care system, he didn’t pressure her to talk about why her father had lost custody. Instead, he asked her about Beck, a topic she was far more comfortable with.

He was her support system. And her best friend.

Which was why he was the first to greet her upon her entrance to the BAU.

“Hey, do we have a case?” he asked bluntly, meeting her halfway to her desk and following her there.

“I wouldn’t be here if we didn’t,” she admitted, setting her go bag down, finally having one to keep in the office. “Gideon?”

“Round table room,” he replied, shortly. Then he leaned in, almost secretively. “Welcome back.”

She opened her mouth to tease him, but was cut off by Morgan.

“Lydia! Bring it in, kiddo!” He entered the bullpen, arms extended for a hug, which she graciously accepted.

“Derek! I’ve missed you guys. How have things been without me?”

“ _ Eh… _ ” he squeeked. “Tense?”

She knew what he was referring to. Apparently, on their last case, Elle had shot an unsub outside of his house with no witnesses around. She was claiming it was self defense, but the circumstances were fishy and Hotch didn’t believe her. Or at least, Spencer  _ thought  _ Hotch didn’t believe her.

“Morgan, Reid, Ambers,” JJ called, sternly. “Let’s go.”

The three of them sheepishly made their way to the conference room, where JJ and Gideon were waiting for them.

“Nicholas Faye, of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago” JJ began, a picture of a young kid with a bloody head wound appearing on screen. “Blunt force trauma to the head. He’s the second young boy in Ozona to die the same death in the last 2 months. Local hunters found his body in the woods. The first victim’s name, Robbie Davis.”

Lydia picked up one of the case files and sat down with the team, looking over the crime scene photos. She didn’t want to, but couldn’t help herself from glancing at Nicholas’s file. He was  _ eight _ . Who took out their psychotic desires on such small children?   
  


“Are these boys connected somehow?” Morgan asked.

“Ozona’s population’s roughly 2,500,” JJ explained. “Everyone has some kind of connection.”

“Well, if they weren’t linked before, they most certainly are now,” he murmured.

~ ~ ~

Lydia didn’t fail to notice the lack of Hotch and Elle as they boarded the jet. No wonder Gideon asked her to come along, they were severely understaffed.

Lydia sat down beside JJ on the flight, the two of them looking over the medical report together.

“Did you guys hear Elle was cleared?” Spencer asked, sitting across from them, with Morgan. He had a fresh cup of coffee in his hands.

JJ nodded, looking to Derek, who simply said, “Self-defense.”

“So it was a good shoot,” Spencer continued.

“She hit what she was aimin’ for,” JJ mumbled, harshly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Spencer tried to defend himself, but the can of worms had been opened.

“I know.”

“If they cleared her, how come she’s not here with us?” Morgan demanded. “Or Hotch?”

Gideon was quick to put an end to the speculating. “Focus on the case.”

They had just started to discuss the chances of these kids being surrogates for a past bully when JJ got a call from the sheriff, letting them know a new victim had just been discovered. An 11-year-old girl.

“Why would the victimology just… suddenly change?” Reid asked.

“Maybe the girl wasn’t the target?” Morgan suggested. “Maybe she just got in the way.”

“Or the sex of his victim isn’t significant,” Gideon reasoned. “The pace he’s killing certainly indicates a velocity of change.”

“We can’t surveil every kid in Ozona,” JJ sighed. “How are we supposed to keep them all safe?”

“Enforce a curfew?” Reid offered.

Morgan didn’t seem to disagree with him, but still shook his head as if frustrated. “Children shouldn’t have to worry about something like that.”

“Tell me about it,” JJ mumbled. “The woods were the only thing I was afraid of when I was a kid.”

“Seriously?” he asked, startled. “I thought you grew up in a small town?”

She chuckled. “Yeah. Surrounded by woods.”

“Bummer for you.”

“Yeah.”

“The only I was afraid of was the dark,” he explained.

Reid raised an eyebrow. “Some of us still are.”

The whole group glanced up questioningly and Lydia was sure Morgan was going to tease him about it, but Gideon was already back on topic.

“When we land, Lydia and Reid, go to the new crime scene. The little girl,” he ordered. “Morgan and I will look at the scene where Nicholas Faye was found.”

They nodded, settling into silence.

~ ~ ~

“This is just a quarter mile from where the two boys were killed,” a deputy told them as Lydia and Reid walked onto the scene. “Bludgeoned to death the same way.”

The medic who was wheeling off her body shook his head. “Not entirely true. I found some markings on her scalp that indicated that that psycho beat her postmortem.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow at Reid, before walking around the scene to look for anything the deputies might have missed. “So much for Morgan’s theory on her getting in the way.”

“Suggests the unsub’s getting more brazen,” he agreed.

“He’s getting brazen all right,” the medic grumbled. “I’ve bagged three children in the last month.”

Lydia glanced at a sign nailed into a nearby tree, which designated the surrounding area as hunting grounds. “Deputy, do you get a lot of hunters around here?”

He shrugged. “There are only a few avid hunters in town. The forest goes on for miles and miles, so despite our patrols it’s possible to miss a few.”

Reid stepped around the stretcher and joined her. “What are you thinking?”

“Just trying to get a feel for who would know these woods. If the unsub kept beating her after death, he had to know he was in a spot no one would pass through accidentally.”

“It doesn’t really fit the MO of a hunter to beat someone to death,” he explained.

“Maybe not, but who else is out here regularly? The patrols?”

He contemplated this for a minute. “I’ll bring it up later. Did you look for evidence?”

“Well, I can’t exactly dust the dirt for fingerprints,” she argued. “And I’m sure he took the weapon with him. He’d want to stash it in a separate sight for his next victim. Since I can’t search the whole woods, I’m pretty much useless.”

“You’re not useless,” he assured her. “Looking into the patrols was a good suggestion. Gideon wouldn’t have brought you along if he didn’t think you could help.”

She gave him a halfhearted smile, before continuing around the closed off area and kicking up leaves. She wanted to believe him, but this was a crime scene for a profiler. And she wasn’t a profiler.

~ ~ ~

Lydia was left to twiddling her thumbs in the station as they gave a profile to the deputies. They’d spent the day telling children and parents alike about how to best take care of themselves and make sure no one else got grabbed. But there really wasn’t anything for her to analyze. She was, frankly, quite bored.

“Excuse me.”

Lydia looked up to find a very pregnant woman walking in, a young boy holding her hand.

“Chief,” the deputy they’d met before said. “You’re gonna want to hear this.”

The entire room went quiet as she spoke. “My son, Matthew, never came home today.”

“When was he last seen?” Gideon started and the rest of the team made their way to the evidence board.

The only things on the board were a map of the town and the pictures of the killed kids, which Lydia was sure wasn’t helping ease the mother.

“His teacher saw him in the parking lot after school.”

“Search team,” the sheriff demanded and everyone began to disperse, talking amongst themselves.

“Ok, Reid,” Morgan said, stepping up to the map. “The school is on Willow Rd.”

Reid began to explain the secluded areas nearby and Morgan reasoned out where the deputies should start their search. Across the room, JJ was helping the mother into a chair and Gideon was joining them to ask more questions.

And Lydia was still… doing nothing. No help at all.

“Honey, is that true?” the mother asked, catching the attention of most of the room. She spoke to her youngest son. “Are you hidin’ something?”

“You want to protect him, right?” Gideon prompted The boy glanced nervously at all the adults now fixed on him. “It’s what a brother’s for.”

“Matty said he was just going to ring the doorbell,” he defended. “At the haunted house… on the hill.”

Lydia’s ears pricked up. Haunted house? That was something to keep her busy.

“The Finnegan’s place,” a man named James Charles answered. He was the guidance counselor at the local school, so he knew the kids well and had been involved in the case since day one.

“Who’s Finnegan?” Gideon demanded.

“This old guy who lives in that house,” the kid responded.

The sheriff was the next to explain. “Kind of a local legend. Ghost story.”

“About?” Reid asked.

“Supposedly he watches the kids from his window. Hunts ‘em. Skins ‘em. Eats ‘em.” He shrugged. “Standard.”

“Folks have been tellin’ that story since I was a kid,” Charles explained.

Morgan was clearly pissed. “Why haven’t we heard about this? Fables are often sparked by an ounce of truth. We should exhaust every possibility.”

“Nevermind that, Morgan,” Gideon told him. “Grab your things. Lydia, too. We’re going on a raid.”

~ ~ ~

After Morgan and the sheriff swept the house and found it to be empty, Lydia went in to look for potential evidence. The power had been cut, which would indicate it had been empty for a few weeks, at least, but inside was a copy of the day’s paper.

Gideon and Spencer searched the shed out back and found the boy, Matthew. Poor kid had run off when he thought he heard Finnegan and hid in the shed for most of the day. While the rest of the team was figuring out how to get him home, Lydia and Spencer began their search of the house.

She scanned the shelves in his study while Reid went through his desk. They were looking for any indication that he killed kids in his free time, but it looked pretty normal.

“Hm… I’m gonna search the next room. Will you be alright here?” she asked him, turning away from the books and trinkets.

He nodded, still rumbling through drawers. “I’ll call Garcia to see if she found anything on Finnegan.”

Lydia smiled, stepping out the door. “Holler if you hear anything interesting.”

He agreed, watching her walk off, fondly, before a sense of dread overcame him with the realization he was now all alone in the dark. He dialed Garcia as fast as he could, trying to focus on the files in front of him and forget about the ominous room behind him.

Meanwhile, Lydia walked into an open living space with some scary decorations. A full wall was lined with hunting knives and a cabinet of shotguns. Given the creepy stuffed animal heads around the rest of the house, Lydia wasn’t surprised to find that he was a hunter, but even so, the amount of weapons he owned seemed extensive.

A hunter, especially one who lived basically in the woods himself, would know the trails well. But she remembered what Reid had said about how strange it would be for a hunter to kill someone with blunt force trauma. And clearly Finnegan was proud of his kills. Beating up kids and leaving them in the woods didn’t line up with the guy who organized his knives by size and preserved his kills on frames in his house.

But just in time to throw a wrench in her assumption, she came across a few items hastily stuffed underneath the coffee table in the adjacent room. She knelt down and picked up a blue lunchbox and a pink and white backpack.

“ _ Ah! _ ” Reid’s squeal echoed through the house, followed by laughter from Morgan.

Lydia picked up her findings and started to make her way back towards them.

“You really  _ are  _ afraid of the dark,” Morgan teased.

“I’m working on that.”

“You should work a little harder.”

She stepped into the main hallway and almost walked directly into her boyfriend. “Woah. Hey. You alright?” She couldn’t stop herself from smiling at his flustered demeanor.

“What are you holding?” he deflected, noticing her awkward grip on her flashlight with her full hands.

“My deputy got the boy home safe,” the sheriff announced, entering the house with Gideon. “Turns out the poor kid got spooked by a tree branch.”

Morgan sighed. “This whole town’s on edge.”

“And rightfully so,” Lydia argued, holding up the lunchbox for them to see. “Robbie Davis,” she said, pointing to the name in sharpie on the bottom, then doing the same to the backpack. “Sarah Peterson.”

“I guess Finnegan brought the kids back here first before baiting ‘em into the woods,” Morgan reasoned. “But why wouldn’t he get rid of the evidence?”

Gideon looked somewhat baffled.

“He considers them trophies,” Reid offered.

“When this is all said and done I’d like to hang  _ his  _ head on  _ my  _ wall,” Morgan finished, before walking further into the house.

~ ~ ~

The house was huge. It was going to take hours to search, but it was better than the  _ jackshit  _ she’d been doing earlier. The team had spread out pretty evenly across the house, looking for any indication of where Finnegan had run off to.

“Lydia! Morgan!” Gideon called up the stairs.

The two of them met on the stairwell and found Gideon, Reid, and the sheriff all headed out the door.

“One of the search teams just found Finnegan’s body in the woods,” Gideon continued to explain.

“ _ No shit… _ ” Lydia whispered.

“I need you to keep searching the house. And what did I say about looking fascinated?” he warned her, being the last to walk out the door. “It’ll creep the locals out.”

She nodded, though he was already gone, and looked to Morgan for instruction.

“Do you wanna search down here and I’ll go back upstairs?” he asked, not comfortable with ordering Lydia around despite being the superior agent (in fact, the only agent) in the house.

“Sure,” she responded and lifted up her flashlight to navigate the ground floor once more.

She wasn’t sure what Reid and Gideon had gone through before they left, so she headed towards the back end of the house and started there. The bathroom was fairly standard and she moved through it quickly, then wound up in the kitchen.

Across an island in the middle of the room were many empty food containers. They’d been delivered and eaten within the past few days. Lydia continued, thinking nothing of it and searched through some drawers, when her phone went off.

“ _ Lydia? Finnegan’s been dead for two weeks, at least, _ ” Gideon informed her. “ _ Looks like his heart gave out when he was setting an animal trap. _ ”

“Interesting,” she mumbled, turning back on the plastic containers. “It looks like I’ve got some prints to lift, then.”

“ _ His body had been covered up. Someone’s trying to take advantage of the fact that no one knows he’s dead _ .”

“I noticed. We’ve got food containers here that were delivered today and they’ve been eaten. Someone hasn’t just been bringing in his papers, Gideon. They’ve been basically living here.”

“ _ And leaving trophies from their kills there. We’re on our way back. Dust those containers and look for any other evidence of our unsub. He clearly didn’t think we’d find Finnegan. He didn’t think to hide anything he left in the house. _ ”

“You got it.”

She hung up and went to grab some print dust from her bag. But she held off on using it, searching for anything else she could dust and dropping it on the counter as well.

“What have you got?” Gideon asked as he stormed into the house and all the way back to the kitchen.

“Provisions. The church delivers them to elders in town,” she explained, not looking up from her search through the cabinets. “Unsub has been eating all the ones dropped off in the past few days.”

“Did he eat everything?” Morgan inquired, walking in behind them.

She shook her head and lifted the trash can in the corner of the room, opening it up for the boys to see inside. “He doesn’t like creamed spinach it seems.” Inside there were cups of spinach, all duct taped shut. She dropped the can roughly and knelt down to grab the cups of uneaten food and set them up with the other things she’d collected.

“Grab those prints quickly,” Gideon instructed, his phone going off in his pocket. “Have Garcia run them for a match.” Looking at his screen, he mumbled, “Hotch,” before stepping out of the room.

Reid watched him go, then began talking to Morgan. “It’s about Elle, isn’t it?”

Lydia raised an eyebrow, but went back to work, finding pristine prints almost immediately.

“I don’t know,” the agent replied.

“You know, I- I talked to her in Ohio,” Spencer admitted.

“Reid, we all talked to her.”

“No, I- I- I talked to her before. I went to her room one night, and she was drinking.”

“She almost died. I’d be drinking, too.” Morgan sounded exhausted, leaving the conversation at that.

Lydia waited until she was certain he was gone to look up at Reid. “Don’t worry about Elle, Spencer. Hotch is working on that. When we’ve finished this case, then you can talk to her, call her, whatever you need to do to make sure she’s okay.”

He nodded, his teeth pulling at his lips in concentration. “Thanks, Lydia.”

She shot him a small smile, the dark finally lifting with the morning light. “If you just want to talk, you know I’ll listen.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Gideon was already on his way back in, not looking too happy.

_ Text _ , she mouthed to Spencer, not wanting him to give up so easily on talking to her.

_ Later _ , he mouthed back.

~ ~ ~

They got back to the station late that morning and Gideon instructed the three of them to settle down until Garcia got back to them with the prints Lydia had sent her.

That’s how she ended up sitting around with JJ, Reid, and Morgan, clutching her morning coffee like it was her life and vaguely listening to them talk about the case. She didn’t even realize the topic had changed until she was in the middle of it.

“Why the woods, JJ?” Morgan started to her left. Lydia glanced up, curious where the conversation had ended up.

“Hm?”

“Your fear. You said it was of the woods.”

She glanced down, her brow creased in concentration. “Uh, I used to be a camp counselor when I was a teenager in the woods up in Vermont. I had the night shift-- tuck the girls in, turn off the lights, you know, the typical drill. Everything seemed fine, all the kids were asleep. You know… nothing out of the ordinary… Until I noticed that there was some blood on the hallway floor…”

Both the boys’ eyebrows shot up, glancing at each other curiously. Lydia’s face was one more of confusion. The way she set up the story sounded more like a ghost story than a personal tragedy. And it would turn out she was right, because while the boys were distracted, JJ sent Lydia a wink. _ Oh… she was totally playing them. _

“...so I followed the blood trail out to the camp director’s cabin, walked up to his bed, and he was just lying there underneath his covers… Dead. Someone stabbed him. I ran out of there so fast. Out the door, down the hall. I just remember it being really dark. Once I got to the door, there was another counselor there. I guess she heard me scream.

“They caught the caretaker on his way to town. Guess he had still had the knife on him. Anyway, I guess that’s probably when I decided I didn’t like the woods.”

She took a long sip from her coffee and Lydia could tell almost immediately that she was trying to hide her smile at the dumbstruck faces the boys were making.

“You’re serious?” Morgan asked, glancing at Lydia who was holding a hand over her mouth to also mask her smile, though it wasn’t very convincing.

JJ gave Morgan a long look, before finally saying, “No.”

Lydia snickered at their change in posture. “Come on guys, that was total bullshit.”

“You fell for that?” JJ teased. “Come on. I don’t know why I’m afraid of the woods. I just… I am. Why is  _ he  _ still afraid of the dark?” she demanded, turning on Spencer.

“Yeah, Reid,” Morgan joined. “Why are you still afraid of the dark?”

“Because of the inherent absence of light,” he replied.

“ _ Oh _ ,” JJ said, sarcastically.

“JJ, that was pretty good,” Morgan complimented. “I can’t believe you were in on it, Lydia. Just know that paybacks are a bitch.”

“I’m shaking,” JJ mocked.

Suddenly, Morgan flipped onto Lydia. “So, out with it. What was your childhood fear?”

Lydia stammered for a moment. “Oh! I hadn’t even thought about it. I guess… getting kicked out of school was one of the big ones for me.”

“You getting kicked out?” he laughed. “Come on, kiddo. You can do better.”

“I got into a couple of fights,” she defended and he shook his head.

“No way. You can’t play me like JJ did.”

“I’m not!” She was laughing now, too. “I was an angry child until I went away to college! But I knew how difficult it would be for my family if I got expelled so every time I got sent to the principal I was terrified of getting kicked out.”

“I don’t believe you!” he argued, leaning forward to grab his ringing phone. “You’re a total liar!”

Lydia rolled her eyes dramatically at the other two. She knew Spencer believed her, but she wasn’t sure with JJ. She couldn’t blame Morgan for dismissing it. She had changed a lot since then. Even when they first met, when she was still grieving Jenna, she hadn’t been as physical or offstandish as she’d been in high school, so he really hadn’t seen her in action.

“Yeah… Hey girl, you got something good for me?... Two?... Okay, but which one of the victims? Why don’t you coordinate with the Ozona coroner’s office for a match?...” Morgan’s eyebrows knit together as he listened to Garcia. “Yeah, he’s a local guidance counselor helping us on this case… I know exactly how to find him, Garcia. Thanks.”

“Don’t tell me-,” Lydia began, but Morgan was already hopping up and ready to go.

“James Charles’s fingerprints were on those food containers.”

~ ~ ~

They drove out, leaving Lydia to search his house while they brought him into custody. She did a glancing sweep of all the rooms but nothing stood out to her. The profile claimed the guy was meticulous. And the Charles household did not reflect that.

She found the cleanest room was his son’s bedroom. Jeffrey Charles. His mom had left him and his dad 6 months ago. And now all his classmates were dying horribly. That must be scary.

Oh no… and JJ had to pull him out of school now that his dad was in custody. Even scarier.

She wandered a moment more, building herself up to inevitably tear this house apart. And then, Spencer called her.

“What’s up?”

“ _ Is Jeffrey there? At the house? _ ”

“What?” she exclaimed. “No. I would have called you if I was babysitting a child.”

“ _ He’s not at school either. _ ”

“You guys thinking Charles killed his own kid?”

“ _ It’s suspect. JJ and I are going to meet up with you. _ ”

“Got it.”

And after a few minutes they did. JJ looked around upstairs and Lydia started a more thorough search around the kitchen. Turns out, there was a lot to learn from kitchens on this case. She opened the fridge and was very startled to find many of the products inside sealed with duct tape. Similar to the duct tape on all the creamed spinach at the Finnegan place.

“Weird,” Spencer mumbled behind her.

“What is it?” she asked, not even turning around. “I bet mine’s weirder.”

“Epi pen,” he muttered, walking into the kitchen and looking over her shoulder. He stared at the fridge for a moment, eyebrows scrunching together. “I… guess I’ll call Gideon.”

Lydia shut the refrigerator door, listening to him explain to Gideon what they’d found.

“Do you think the kid could have done this?” she asked, quietly. It was a protective measure. No adult would cover things they were allergic to. The duct tape was to stop a kid from doing something harmful. And if Jeffrey was the one with the allergy, he’s the one who’s been hiding in the Finnegan house.

“Gideon will figure it out,” Spencer assured her, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Let’s just keep searching.”

~ ~ ~

Little Jeffrey Charles was bitter that his dad could help all these kids at school with their problems and couldn’t sit down and talk to him about his mom. So, once the baseball season was up and he was still craving the physical release, he walked into the woods with his friend Robbie Davis and beat him to death.

Maybe Robbie was teasing him or making him angry. Maybe he hadn’t meant to hit him the first time. Maybe there was more to it that they didn’t understand…

But Lydia had to go home knowing that she’d never get more answers for that. Little Jeffrey Charles was going to be sent away for a long time. That was it.

The jet was silent, JJ sleeping across the couch, Gideon looking over one file or another, and Morgan listening to something in earbuds. Lydia and Spencer were sitting beside one another, looking off distantly, lost in their own heads. That was until Lydia’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she saw Spencer glancing at her in her peripheral vision.

_ Spencer: You said I could text? _

It took her a moment to remember what he was talking about. When Gideon had interrupted them earlier, she told him to text her if he wanted to talk about Elle. She smiled slightly and nodded at him, knowing no one would notice the strange interaction between the two.

_ Spencer: I should have said something. _

_ Spencer: I talked to Elle that night, and I knew she wasn’t right, but I didn’t tell anyone. _

He thought he hadn’t been enough of a friend. He was the only person to notice that Elle was unhappy and to talk to her about it and he’s putting her reaction on himself. Because he didn’t tell anyone. Lydia was quick to respond before he could continue to beat himself up about it.

_ Don’t do that to yourself. You were helping a friend. Elle’s decisions, whether justified or not, are on her. _

_ Spencer: Maybe Hotch could have talked to her. _

_ Maybe she could have talked to Hotch, _ she fired back.  _ Maybe I’m not the best person to tell you this, but when someone’s standing on a ledge, your ability to talk them down depends on them, not you. Sometimes people make themselves so closed off, that not even holding them up yourself can save them. _

_ Spencer: Elle wasn’t unreachable. _

_ She still isn’t. But perhaps one day she will be. I’m not saying don’t keep reaching. I’m telling you that if she gets to that point, she made the step. You didn’t push her. _

Lydia hadn’t expected a response to that. Especially not a real one. Spencer was so careful about their relationship. Months later, and he was still scared of the team being a part of it.

She could respect that, of course. Although this had been their first case together as a couple, she was relieved to find it completely professional. No weird teasing from the team. No worried eyes from Hotch and Gideon. They were perfectly normal.

But a couple beats after sending that message, Spencer’s eyes scanned the room to make sure no one was looking, then reached out and squeezed her hand appreciatively.

And she  _ really  _ wished they could stay like that for the rest of the flight.


	10. Lessons Learned (S2E10)

“Hotch?” Lydia asked as she picked up the phone that morning. It wasn’t even 7 yet and Gideon was always the one to call her about a new case.

“ _ Lydia, I need you in the office as soon as possible. We believe there may be a planned terrorist attack within the next 48 hours. _ ”

“Can you give me any details?” She was already jumping up, throwing on her shoes.

“ _ DEA found what was possibly a dispersal device for a chemical weapon. But they aren’t sure what the chemical agent is. We have a member of the supposed plot in Guantanamo Bay that Gideon and Reid are going to question. I need you to help search and determine what their weapon is. _ ”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “On my way now.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia didn’t even look around the room upon entering the bullpen, instead heading straight for Hotch. He was talking with Gideon on the second level.

“This is an interrogation, not a training exercise,” Gideon was saying, hurriedly. He had his go bag in one hand.

“She’s the only member of the team fluent in arabic,” Hotch said.

Lydia stepped up beside them. “Someone’s fluent in arabic?”

“Why can’t I take Lydia with me?” Gideon demanded, missing her question. “We’ve discussed having her try interrogation techniques.”

Lydia couldn’t help her scoff. “No way. I’m not going to interrogate my first suspect in Guantanamo. And I’m here for my chemical expertise. What could I do from Guantanamo?”

Gideon sighed. “Does she even have a ready bag, yet?”

“My guess is there isn’t much this woman’s unprepared for.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Who are we talking about?”

Hotch nodded down to the bullpen, where a dark-haired woman was standing. She looked somewhat awkward, a go bag underneath her arm. Lydia knew that the team was going to need to search for new agents after Elle’s disappearance, but no one had warned her that they’d found one.

She pushed past her bosses to go introduce herself to the new woman.

“Hi.” She smiled, holding out her hand. “I’m Lydia Ambers. I’m a contracted forensic scientist for the BAU.”

“Emily,” she greeted. “Prentiss. You’re… terribly young looking, if you don’t mind me saying,”

“Not at all,” Lydia responded. “I hear you know arabic. Impressive.”

Gideon brushed past the two of them. “Car leaves in 4 minutes,” he told Emily.

“Yes, sir.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, seeing his impatient attitude shine through. “He’s rough when he’s upset. Don’t let it get to you.”

She smiled and nodded, relieved to find a friend in the team. Lydia would have kept talking to her, if it weren’t for Spencer calling her away. She apologized before meeting her boyfriend at his desk.

“What’s up?”

“Uh…” He glanced off. Clearly he wanted to say something personal, but was worried about getting caught. “Just, uh… Be careful?”

She smirked. “Always am. Have fun in Guantanamo.”

He looked down, bashfully. “Lydia, I’m being serious. Terrorist threats are bad news. As a crime scene investigator, you’re in the middle of it.”

“I won’t do anything stupid,” she reassured him. “You be careful, too. Don’t piss off the CIA.”

He chuckled, slightly, picking up his go bag to leave. “It’s Gideon I’m worried about.”

“Don’t let him be an asshole to Prentiss, okay?” she said, watching him leave, but she knew if it came down to it, he wouldn’t say anything. He respected Gideon too much.

~ ~ ~

“Bonnie Ryan,” a woman introduced as Hotch, Lydia, and Morgan entered the scene.

“Aaron Hotchner.”

“DEA team. We ran this raid.”

Derek also reached out to shake her hand. “Derek Morgan.”

“Lydia Ambers,” she greeted, showing off her gloved fingers to avoid shaking her hand. It was a cross contamination issue.

“Hey, Morgan,” a man greeted as they entered the room with the weapon.

“Hey, Kenny,” he replied, shaking the DEA agent’s hand. “Been a minute, man.”

“Yeah, it has.”

“We good in here?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he told the three of them. “Everything’s been rendered safe.”

Hotch and Morgan walked to either side, leaning over the device. Lydia knew Morgan was well knowledgeable in bomb devices and clearly this was no different. He started explaining how it worked.

“Wow. These guys weren’t messing around. Hotch, these tubes surround what would be the explosive charge. And this cylinder right here? It’s gotta be where they put whatever bio or chem agent they plan on dispersing.”

“That’s a happy thought,” the guy, Kenny, said.

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

Lydia leaned forward and felt the thickness of the tubes emerging from the cylinder. “Hm… So, how am I supposed to determine what that is.”

Hotch stepped away, making a move out of the room. “We’ll get you a profile.”

~ ~ ~

“You know, if these guys are fundamentalists,” Morgan called as he entered the room Lydia and Hotch were searching, “you’d think they’d have  _ Qu’rans _ . Prayer mats.”

“No,” Agent Ryan replied. “We didn’t find any of that here.”

“They must have at least one other location,” Hotch determined.

Lydia pulled a shoebox out from underneath one of the makeshift beds. It had newspaper articles and note papers inside. She sighed, upon seeing one of the bottom pages of notes. “Hotch, Morgan.”

“What is it?” Hotch asked, stepping over to look at what she was holding.

“It’s a list of chemicals.” She flipped through the pages. “God, this is a lot. I might need Garcia’s help in determining what it’s for.”

“Whatever you need,” Hotch complied.

She handed him what was left in the box. “I’m gonna need some paper, too.”

“I’ll get that,” Agent Ryan informed her, stepping out of the room.

“What do you see?” Hotch asked as she raked her eyes over the scribbles.

“Trouble,” she muttered.

Her fears were confirmed minutes later as she hung up on Garcia. She looked over her notes a few times, just to be sure, but Garcia had checked everything online. There was no mistaking it.

“What are we looking at?” Morgan asked, seeing her unease.

“I was right. It’s trouble. Someone’s weaponizing anthrax.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia was seated in the back of the car, on her way back to Quantico, when Hotch got a call from JJ.

“Yeah, JJ… I’ll get Agent Ryan to organize another raid. Notify Gideon and Reid.”

“What’s up?” Morgan asked as he put down his phone.

“JJ thinks she’s got the cell’s backup location, potentially with another weapon.”

~ ~ ~

“Hey, guys,” Kenny greeted as they got onto the site. Vincent Construction in Annandale, Virginia. “We’re going silent tonight. No coms.”

She nodded, fumbling to get her FBI vest on. She hadn’t really seen much use in taking the gun qualifications test, so she didn’t carry a weapon, but Hotch wanted her to raid the site with them, so that they could be sure it was chemically safe. So, she was walking into an enclosed space, with possibly dangerous people, with no weapon. Woo hoo.

She was starting to reconsider her decision.

“Let’s be careful,” Agent Ryan continued, handing the three of them gas masks. “We don’t know what to expect. Ready?”

“Ready,” Hotch responded.

Lydia wished she had put her hair up that morning. The grips on the mask pulled on it as she secured it over her head. It felt unnatural, breathing through it, but she pushed that aside and instead focused on staying behind Hotch and not getting shot.

There was a single, sliding glass door along the length of the rectangular room, with many curtained windows. After hearing a few men call out the clear, Hotch beckoned Lydia in, which she quickly complied with, holding up her flashlight for a search.

This place was far messier than the last one, though considerably smaller. Upon finding it empty, Morgan threw off his mask in frustration. “This place is completely empty. We missed them again.”

Hotch followed suit, pulling out his phone and calling Reid.

“It’s Hotch. We’re at cell location number 2. No cell members, no lab, no dispersal devices. We’re still looking for escape tunnels.”

Lydia glanced around, but the place didn’t look promising. With the clothes and trash dispersed around the room, just about anything could be hiding a slip of paper with a plan on it, but these guys seemed to only let them find what they wanted them to find. They weren’t about to leave a note of what government building they planned to attack around the room. They certainly took their chemicals and equipment with them.

They had to be planning to leave far ahead of time.

~ ~ ~

“We’re running out of time,” Spencer noted, hanging up his call with Hotch. “The attack’s supposed to take place in less than 24 hours.”

“So getting Jind Allah to talk is our only chance of finding them,” Emily deduced.

“Time I confronted him with the truth,” Gideon said.

“What are you going to do?”

“Show him my hand.”

With that, Gideon turned on his heel and reentered the cell where Jind Allah was being questioned. Emily and Spencer hovered around the monitors, looking closely at their suspect. His hands were balled into fists in his lap, not even looking up as Gideon stormed inside.

“I’m going to give you the respect of telling you what just happened,” Gideon began. “A team of agents raided an omega cell location. Actually, both of them.”

Jind Allah sat forward, his eyes reflecting a deep curiosity, but not giving up any indication that he knew what Gideon was speaking about. Spencer bit his bottom lip, focusing closely on him.

“Our men are in place in Annandale as we speak. You gain nothing by remaining silent.”

At those words, the suspect’s hands unclenched, lying flat on his thighs. He was relaxing at the news. “Jihad is forever,” was his response.

“Something’s wrong,” Spencer murmed. “His hands…”

What was it that caused him to act relieved? The words Gideon was saying when he unclasped his hands. _ Our men are in place at Annandale as we speak. _

_ Lydia was in Annandale. _

Reid should have told Gideon first. He knew he should have talked to Gideon about it first, but his body was overcome by panic, reaching for his phone and dialing Hotch.

“Hotch, get out of there now,” he cried over the phone. “It’s a trap. Get out.  _ Now _ .”

Hotch didn’t respond, he simply hung up and Spencer spun back around to see Gideon reenter.

“What just happened?” he demanded.

Emily held the communication device to Gideon’s earpiece. She had clearly seen Spencer flip and told Gideon to come back in.

“He seemed relieved when you told him about Annandale. His hands relaxed. I just called Hotch to-”

Gideon shook his head, silencing the boy. “Good. Good. We can only hope we caught them in time.”

~ ~ ~

“Everybody out!” Hotch yelled across the room. Lydia glanced up from her spot on the floor. “It’s a trap. Now!”

Everyone jumped up, doing their best to file out calmly before making a break for it outside.

“I said out!” Hotch ordered. He scanned the room, taking something from Morgan and pushing him towards the door. “Go!”

Lydia leapt up from her spot, following the other agents out, but as she hit the grass, she began to fall behind. Her damned foot just made her seconds too slow.

The blast from the building knocked her forward, her forearms shielding her head as she hit the ground and coughed into the dirt. It was enough to get the wind knocked out of her and she lay there for a moment, turning onto her side to get some air. She couldn’t stay long, though, distantly hearing Morgan call her name and drag her away from the site. It was engulfed in flames, the heat alone enough to scare her.

As soon as they were a solid distance away, he helped her lean up against one of the cop cars speaking soothingly to her to help her calm down.

Her breathing was labored, occasionally interrupted with spasms in her chest. She wasn’t registering Morgan’s words to her at all, the pain in her chest enough to make her eyes well up. The smoke was too strong and her senses were overloaded.

“Hey,” Derek was saying softly, his words finally making it through one ear. “Hey, Lydia. Just keep breathing in. I know it hurts, but just keep taking deep breaths.”

She nodded, slowly. Her head ached with the sudden impact, plus the heavy air. Any more movement and she thought she would pass out.

“Lydia, are you alright?”

She nodded again. As soon as she could catch her breath, she was certain she’d be fine. She just needed some air.

“Are you sure?”

She glanced at the agent, who was staring at her arm. She followed his gaze and found her palm soaked with blood. It seemed her elbows and wrists had been pretty torn apart in the fall. Her right arm especially. The blood was oozing down, coating a huge portion of her forearm.

She couldn’t even muster a look of shock.

“An EMT will be here soon,” Derek reassured her, trying to find something to cover the wound. “They’ll get you all cleaned up. Just keep breathing in slowly and-”

“Ambers,” Hotch called, sternly, joining her and Morgan. “Are you hurt?”

She stared at him for a moment, opening her mouth to say something, but still gasping like a fish out of water.

“She’s got the wind knocked out of her,” Morgan told him, finally finding a cloth and wrapping it around her elbow. “And she’s scrapped up pretty bad, but she’ll survive.”

“That’s good,” Hotch said, a sigh evident in his voice. “One of our SWAT agents didn’t make it out in time.”

Sirens started approaching in the distance. Or at least, Lydia thought it was the distance, but her ears were still recovering, so in a blink, they were there.

Morgan reached around her shoulders. “Let’s find you a medic, kiddo.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia gasped at the sting of the antiseptic as she sat against the back of an ambulance. The medic was super sweet, talking to her gently as she wrapped up her arm.

“Does everything still sound far away?”

“Not anymore,” Lydia admitted.

“Okay, and does your head still hurt?”

“Very much so.”

She nodded, smiling. “That normally sticks around. Just take some painkillers when you can.” She moved onto Lydia’s left hand, where the majority of the scrapes were on her wrist. The wrist itself ached, but Lydia could move it, so she figured it wasn’t broken. “How old are you?”

“22.”

“How long have you been living in Virginia?”

“Uh… a little over a year?”

“Don’t tell me it’s been that long,” Morgan said, appearing out of nowhere. “You’re still the baby-newbie-intern.”

“Baby maybe, but newbie and intern I’ve both overcome, my friend.” She smiled at him, knowing that he was still probably concerned about her. She’d still been pretty out of it when he handed her over to the medic. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, but Lydia had sent him off, saying she’d be fine until he was done with whatever work he needed to do.

“How’s she doing, doc?” he asked the EMT.

The woman nodded politely. “Now that I’ve stopped the bleeding, I’m just going to make sure she’s not concussed and you can have her back.”

“I’ve been answering all your questions pretty lucidly, haven’t I?” Lydia argued.

“So far, yes. But I still need to be sure. You hit the ground pretty hard from what I hear.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at Morgan, who sat down next to her, rubbing soothing circles into her back. Then, she complied with the usual tests, following the EMT’s finger, letting her check her pupils, and answering some basic questions.

“What’s your full name?”

“Lydia Josephine Ambers.”

“Where were you born?”

“Oakland, California.”

“What are your parents' names?”

“Jamie and Marcus.”

“Do you have any siblings?” she pressed on.

“Yes. My younger sister, Rebecca.”

“Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

_ … It slipped out. _ Morgan watched Lydia’s face drop with the realization that he’d just heard her admit to that.

“Are you holding out on me, Lydia?!” he exclaimed. “You got a secret boyfriend?”

“You are never meeting my boyfriend, Derek,” she snapped.

“Oh, I most certainly am. I need to give my approval,” he argued.

The EMT looked apologetic and said, “You’re not concussed,” before walking away.

“If you ask me-” Lydia started, but Derek just wouldn’t let up.

“Does he live in California?”

“I’m not answering-”

“How long have you been dating him?”

“Because it’s none of your business-”

“Lydia!” he cried. “You can’t escape me!”

She laughed before she could stop herself. “I  _ so  _ can. You have no idea the amount of secrets I keep from you.”

His phone began ringing loudly in his pocket. He continued berating her as he picked it up. “If you admit to me that you’re keeping secrets, I’m going to bother you to tell me more. Yeah, it’s Morgan,” he answered. “Hello? Garcia, can you hear me?... Yeah, I know. We lost a SWAT agent… Don’t worry. Don’t think you’re gonna get rid of me that easy. Lydia got kicked around pretty bad though… Yeah, I’ll put her on.”

He handed her the phone and she held it up to her ear. “Hey, spice.”

“ _ Sugar! _ ” she shouted. “ _ How are you feeling, sweetheart? _ ”

“I’m fine. Derek’s being a little dramatic. The blast just knocked the wind out of me and scraped up my elbow.”

“ _ Your voice is all scratchy, hun. _ ”

“I’ve been wheezing for the past hour,” Lydia defended. “I’m not dying.”

“ _ Do you need anything? _ ”

She shook her head, forgetting momentarily that Garcia wouldn’t be able to see her. “No, I’m alright. I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”

“ _ Yeah, of course _ ,” she said, the relief evident in her voice.

Lydia gave Derek back his phone, which he promptly reattached to his ear and said, “Were you aware that Lydia had a boyfriend?”

Lydia could basically hear Garcia scream over the other end.  _ Shit _ . Spencer was going to kill her. She really thought that he’d be the one to slip up, but whatever.

“We’ll make a plan to outwit her later,” he assured her. “Thanks, baby girl.”

~ ~ ~

“They’re okay?” Spencer questioned once Gideon put down his phone. His heart was racing. He wanted to just call her. Ask her himself. But even if she was fine, there was a lot to do on sight. She likely wouldn’t answer.

And he was getting scarily close to exposing their relationship. The last thing he wanted to do was have Hotch find out they were dating because he wasn’t able to do his job when she was in danger. It wasn’t about being scared anymore. They could get in huge trouble if the team found out like this.

“We were right about the trap. It was rigged to explode. A SWAT agent was killed and Lydia was injured.”

Spencer couldn’t control his expressions. It was like his heart stopped. He opened his mouth to say more, but Emily got there first.

“Was anthrax involved?”

“No.”

“Then that’s not the final target,” she told them.

Gideon nodded and reentered the interrogation room. The moment he was gone, Emily turned on Spencer, whose mouth was still hanging open.

“Oh my god, you’re in love with her.”

He coughed violently, finally coming out of total paralysis and instead downgrading to major panic. “ _ What?! _ ”

“I mean, I could see how much you liked her when you spoke to her at headquarters, but I figured you just liked to talk to her, ‘cause she seemed real nice. But when you realized that Annandale was a trap, you mouthed her name. Not ‘the team’. Not Hotch or Morgan. You didn’t even say ‘Ambers’, you said  _ Lydia _ .”

He blinked. He barely knew Prentiss. He couldn’t just admit that they were dating, she could easily tell the whole team and he didn’t feel like he could trust her yet.

But she was dead on.

“You should call her,” she told him, not waiting for a response from him. “I’ll cover for you, but there’s no way you can keep doing this job if you’re scared for her. Call her and make sure she’s alright.”

It took a moment for him to agree, grabbing his phone and walking out of the room. His hands were shaking, pulling up Lydia’s number and pressing call. And the few seconds it took for her to pick up were absolute torture.

“ _ Hey _ ,” she answered, softly.

He felt a flood of relief, then immediately began profiling what happened from the sound of her voice. It was weaker than normal, but that could be due to any number of things. She was probably exhausted, but there was also a chance she had been screaming or crying.

“What happened? Gideon said you were injured, but he wouldn’t say how and I-”

“ _ I’m totally fine. The blast threw me a bit. But an EMT just bandaged me up. How’s the questioning going? _ ”

“Did they make sure you hadn’t suffered any other injuries? Concussion? Broken bones?”

“ _ I am a-okay, _ ” she said once more. “ _ In fact, Hotch is probably going to take me back to headquarters any minute now and insist I stay there. I think him and Derek were actually concerned when they saw me go flying. _ ”

“Of course they were!” he hissed. “I’m still concerned! I told you to be careful!”

She bit back a smile. He never got so personal on cases, in the office, etc. That’s when another thought hit her. “ _ Are Gideon and Prentiss in the room with you? _ ”

“No,” he admitted. “Why?”

“ _ Because you’re being personal… at work. _ ”

“Prentiss saw how startled I was to hear you got hurt. She sent me outside to call you and check in.”

“ _ Can I come clean with Derek? _ ”

His mind went from calm to terror in half a second. “ _ No! _ ”

She huffed audibly. “ _ He just found out I have a boyfriend and he won’t leave me alone about it. Keeps asking questions. I’m not sure how long I can fend him off. _ ”

“At least until we tell Hotch and Gideon,” Spencer insisted. “Derek will tell them everything if we don’t tell them first.”

“ _ Sure. We can discuss when you get back. You be careful, I’ll be careful, etcetera, etcetera… I have to go. Talk to you soon? _ ”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Real soon.”

~ ~ ~

Upon her arrival to the BAU, Hotch had essentially locked Lydia into Garcia’s office, telling her not to let Lydia go under any circumstances.

“For right now, I don’t want you out in the field. Stay here, help Garcia and JJ until we get back and you’re free to go home.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, trying not to sound somewhat defeated. During her drive back, she’d come to the realization that Hotch might not just be concerned about her, but he might think she was unfit for field work after watching her fall behind the group. The Academy had passed her, even with the limp, but Hotch could still bench her if he didn’t agree.

And she didn’t want to be benched.

Garcia and JJ had just gotten a huge flood of information from the CIA which they were combing through to see if they could figure out where the anthrax had come from. Words were flying up the screen as the computer did its best to determine what was relevant.

“Wait,” Garcia mumbled, a separate screen popping up. “Anthrax.”

“What?” JJ asked, and Lydia was quick to fall over their shoulders and get herself a better look.

“Genimmune,” Garcia read. “A dutch biotech firm reported that they may have had a security breach involving anthrax last week.”

“What? May have?”

“They’re still doing a security and inventory sweep, but they may be missing up to 20 grams of lab made anthrax.”

“20 grams?” Both women looked up at Lydia, whose insides did a flip.

“That could potentially kill a quarter billion people,” she informed them.

~ ~ ~

“He seems much calmer than he was yesterday,” Spencer noted as he looked in on Jind Allah. “May make any reading of his body language less accurate.”

“I know,” Gideon mumbled, not looking pleased.

“Is that what we want?” Emily asked him.

“I hope so.”

She looked back at the screens. “Well, isn’t that the exact opposite of-” she started, but Gideon was already gone by the time she’d turned back around. She huffed. “He hopes so? We have less than ten hours before the new crescent moon rises.”

“Nine,” Spencer corrected, glancing at his watch.

“Aren’t you worried?”

Spencer smiled, responding gently, “I’ve been with him long enough to trust him.”

She nodded and something else came to mind for him.

“Hey, I’m sorry if he hasn’t seemed very welcoming. Lydia told me before I left that I shouldn’t let him push you around, but she’s much more bold than I am. We all know he reacts out of stress and when he’s calmer, he’ll warm up to you more.”

She smiled back. “It’s really no problem. Speaking of Lydia, is she alright?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, I think. She tends to oversimplify things. I’ll feel better when I can see her again.”

“I’m glad,” Emily said, politely.

“Emily,” he began, using her first name to hopefully convey the seriousness of his situation. “You can’t tell anyone about… you know. The fact that I care about her?” he decided, avoiding the fact that they were in a relationship. That way, if news did get out, everyone would just think he was crushing. And Garcia already thought that. “Especially not Hotch or Gideon. They might think I can’t do my job if I’m closely attached to a member of the team.”

She nodded again, still calm and understanding. “Of course not. I’m sorry that you were so worried about her earlier.”

“Thanks,” he replied, a feeling of relief overcoming him. She seemed genuine. And kind. He imagined she’d make a good friend if she ended up staying at the BAU permanently.

~ ~ ~

“... _ after stopping an attempted robbery at the new USA mall… _ ” The television in Garcia’s office was saying. Morgan and Hotch were on their way back to the office after what had been a successful prevention of a terrorist attack at the grand opening of a nearby mall.

Lydia was immensely relieved they’d pulled it off. She’d gotten no sleep in Garcia’s office, worried about the dangers the anthrax concoction could create. That stuff had to be secured soon and left in good hands. Lucky enough, Gideon had come up with a plot to trick Jind Allah into spilling everything.

Now the world would never know about the stress this past day and a half had caused the team. They’d forever think the commotion outside the mall on its grand opening was a robbery.

Upon getting to headquarters, Hotch ran up to his office, grabbed his keys, and left. It was the first time she’d ever seen him leave the BAU before the team, but she had no qualms about it. This was a lot on him. If he wanted to go home, so be it. She just hoped there wasn’t a more serious reason for his sudden exit.

Spencer had called her a few hours ago to tell her they were boarding the jet, which meant they’d be back soon, so she decided to wait at her desk for him.

“Is your arm gonna be alright?” JJ asked as she walked past Lydia, who was mindlessly filling out her paperwork for the case.

“Oh,” she hummed, looking down at her bandaged elbow. “Yeah. It feels fine. I just skinned it.”

“Morgan was pretty concerned for you before he left,” JJ informed her. “He said when he turned around and saw you hit the ground he was terrified you weren’t going to get back up.”

“I really am okay,” she insisted. “If this is your way of telling me that people will listen if I want to talk about it, don’t worry. It was scary, sure, but I sustained about the same amount of injuries I would have if I’d tripped while running.”

“And then burst your eardrums,” JJ teased.

“Okay, okay, whatever. So, I tripped and then heard a really loud sound-”

“Like an explosion,” she continued.

“Shut up, JJ,” Lydia finally laughed, complying begrudgingly. “Fine. I was running away from a building and it exploded and I sprained my wrist and skinned my elbow. Morgan and Hotch flipped out because I got the wind knocked out of me and couldn’t get up on my own. Yes, for a  _ minute _ , I was experiencing hearing problems, but those went away and now, all I’m left with is two bandaged arms and a splitting headache.”

“And probably a really cool scar on your right arm,” she offered.

“Hopefully. Then I’d actually have a cool story to tell rather than when people ask why I limp and I have to say that I kicked a moving box full of books.”

“Really?!” She cackled loudly. “That’s a great story, I don’t know what you’re talking about. The Great War of Lydia v. Books.”

“The books fucking won,” she grumbled. “Look at me! Now I’m all shook up because my limp slowed me down and I couldn’t get away from a bomb in time.”

“How are you going to explain this to your boyfriend?”

Lydia froze. “Huh?”

“I was with Garcia when Derek called,” JJ smirked. “Garcia and I know all about your secret lover boy now.”

“All you know is that he exists,” she fired back. “That hardly counts as ‘all about’ him.”

She shrugged. “We’ll figure out sooner or later. You  _ are  _ surrounded by profilers, you know.”

“Don’t worry, Derek reminded me,” Lydia said with a roll of her eyes.

JJ left and Lydia went back to her work for the next 20 minutes until Gideon, Prentiss, and Spencer arrived. Emily shot her a smile as she walked to her desk, but didn’t greet her, knowing Spencer probably wanted to see her.

However, Spencer didn’t say much. As he brushed past her, he asked if they could leave soon and do something together. Lydia nodded, already packing up her stuff. She could read Spencer enough to know that was code for ‘I want to hold your hand or hug you or just talk to you without being afraid of everyone seeing us’. And she wanted that too.

Putting her paperwork into her purse, she briskly stood up and walked over to Prentiss’s desk. “It was lovely to meet you, Emily,” she told her. “Hopefully, I’ll see you again soon.”

She smiled. “You too! I hope you feel better.” She gestured to the white wraps around her arms.

“Thanks.”

As soon as she hit the button for the elevator, Spencer started to stand up, trying to follow her out without looking suspicious. In his mind, if they walked over to the elevator  _ together _ , they’d look like they were leaving together. If they just ended up in the elevator together, no one would question it.

She held the door open for him as he stumbled in and they both waited for the door to close to even look at each other.

“I’m fine-” Lydia began, but she wasn’t fast enough. He had scooped her up into a hug before she could even register him moving. “Spencer, are you alright?”

“When Gideon got off the phone with Hotch, all he said was that you were injured,” he mumbled into her shoulder. “I thought my heart had stopped.”

The elevator slowed and they pulled away, trying to act casual as they exited the building.

“I’m sorry that I scared you,” she sighed. “Everything flew by so fast, but look.” She held up her arms for him to see. “It’s nothing. I can take a roll in the dirt.”

“That explosion killed a SWAT agent,” he cried, walking out in front of the building with her. “What if it hadn’t just been a roll in the dirt? I don’t want to lose you!”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” she assured him. “But freaking out about what could have happened doesn’t help us. We both work a dangerous job. We knew that when we started dating.”

He sighed, slowing to a stop and facing her on the sidewalk. “I just thought I’d always be with you. For the danger. I was terrified, because I was in Cuba and you were here and I didn’t know if you were going to be alright.”

She soaked that all in. His care. His love. But there really wasn’t anything to say to it.

“Let’s go to my apartment and have dinner and watch a movie,” she offered out of the blue. “And you can tell me about your day and I’ll tell you about mine. Okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course… okay.”


	11. Profiler, Profiled

“You didn’t tell Emily, did you?” Lydia accused, as her and Spencer took a stroll.

It was morning, before Spencer had to go into the office, and he’d offered to take a walk with her around a nearby park until then. They liked to take short adventures in the mornings now, since making evening plans was so touchy with their jobs. Lydia had never thought she’d be a morning person, but she jumped on any excuse she could to hang out with Spencer and just… be normal.

He swung their intertwined hands back and forth. “Not really. She accused me of being in love with you and I told her that she couldn’t tell anyone. But I never said that you reciprocated those feelings.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t know if I could trust her not to tell,” he argued. “If anyone on the team is going to find out, I want it to be from us.”

“Well, Morgan is really on my ass about this secret boyfriend thing.”

“I know. He told me about it. He asked me to help steal your phone to look through your contacts.”

She chuckled. “How did you respond to that one?”

“I said no.”

Lydia almost fell behind him because she was so distracted by his smile. His eyes would squint in the corners and he had a really prominent dimple when he was genuinely happy. She didn’t get to see that often enough. A laugh from him could give her a year’s worth of serotonin.

“I do, you know,” she mumbled, glancing away. Her heart was leaping out of its chest with every smile from him.

“Hm?” He squeezed her hand, gently.

“Reciprocate,” she explained.

He didn’t say anything, but his grip on her hand didn’t loosen. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, an embarrassed flush staining her cheeks, but he didn’t slow down or adjust his posture. So, she could only hope that meant he knew.

Not that she hadn’t been obvious about it before…

“I should go soon,” he admitted.

“I know,” she replied, nonchalantly. “If you end up getting a super awesome case, please convince Gideon I’m needed for some reason. I’m terribly bored.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re about to go into finals week for one of the most difficult semesters of college you’re ever completed.”

“Hey! I could still fail!”

“Please don’t,” he chuckled. “You’re on schedule to graduate in June.”

“But if I graduate, I have no excuse to see my cute tutor anymore,” she joked. “What’s the fun in that?”

“Your PhD,” he argued.

As they talked, they slowly made their way to the nearby subway station.

“I went on campus in person the other day to speak to one of my professors about my dissertation and I think she was trying to convince me to take over her job for her after she retires,” Lydia explained. “I was trying to tell her that I wasn’t anywhere near as brilliant as I am on paper, because I have your help, but she was pretty convinced I could do it.”

“I think you’d be a great professor,” he agreed. “It’s a job you could do while still being a contractor for the Bureau. What classes would you be taking over?”

She blinked. “Uh, Spencer? You don’t actually think I should consider that as like… an offer, do you?”

“Why not?”

“I’m 22! Who’s going to hire me as a professor?”

“Someone with eyes,” he retorted. “You’re brilliant and I don’t think your professor would joke around with you like that. Do you think it’s something you’d enjoy?”

She was shocked once more by the question. “Um… I don’t… Can I follow you to headquarters today?” she inquired. “I kinda want to talk to Hotch and Gideon.”

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia huffed, stepping away from Gideon’s office, coming up empty for the second time that morning.

“Are neither of them here yet?” Spencer asked curiously as she ended up at his desk.

“Nope. Looks like you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.” She leaned back against his desk, looking around the quiet morning office. She never got to see it like this. She would always rush in, the last one to enter the briefing, and if it was ever morning when she returned from a case, Hotch or Gideon would send her home to sleep.

“What are you thinking about?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, then shrugged. “How peaceful it is in here. I don’t often get to see it like this.”

“You don’t have to sit at a desk and do office work,” he contended. “This is what a non-case day looks like for me.”

She sucked in her lips, contemplatively. Unconsciously, her fingers went to her ring, spinning it in circles, as she often did around Spencer.

He had begun to like watching her think. Her little ticks were his favorite part about her. Mostly, because she was a pretty sheltered off person. She was a good liar, that’s for sure. The only time she ever lost control over her facial expressions was when she was lost in thought.

Perhaps he liked it so much because it was one of the few times he knew she was truly genuine. She wasn’t hiding anything at all. She wasn’t even thinking about putting up walls around herself. She was just… her.

JJ and Garcia ended up walking into the office together, both of them stopping when they saw Lydia in the middle of the bullpen.

“Lydia, honey!” Garcia called, approaching her at a scary speed. “What are you doing here? Do we have a case?”

She shook her head quickly, calming JJ who was probably concerned about the chance that there was a case she didn’t know about.

“I just stopped by to talk to Hotch for a moment. About my position and stuff.”

“Oo,” Garcia teased. “That’s exciting, isn’t it? Your birthday is in January, isn’t it?”

Lydia squinted at her. “Do you memorize everyone’s profiles?”

“No! But I have a calendar with all the birthdays on it because birthdays are important and I want to make sure at least one person in the office knows!”

“That’s sweet,” she admitted. “But this isn’t about being an agent, if that’s what you mean. Or… not exactly. I’m trying to figure out what Hotch plans to do with me if I become an agent. I’m not a profiler, so I don’t know if he’ll want me to stay in this unit.”

“Neither of  _ us  _ are profilers,” JJ said with a nod towards Garcia. “You’re important to our team, Lydia. He’s not going to get rid of you.”

She shrugged. “If I’m not needed for all cases, why keep me on this team? Why wouldn’t the Bureau want to send me somewhere where I’m more useful?”

“Why is this coming up now?” JJ inquired.

“I was just…”

“Lydia’s professor wants her to take over her job,” Spencer interrupted, impatiently.

“It’s not official,” she said, before either of the girls could say anything. “She merely mentioned that she wanted to retire soon and was asking me about my plans and whether I like the idea of teaching some of her classes…”

Garcia's eyes brightened. “That’s amazing, Lydia!”

“I don’t have teaching credentials! It wasn’t a job offer! For all I know, she could be joking!”

“If you did become a professor, would you want to work there full time?” JJ asked.

Lydia sighed. “No. I want to be  _ here  _ full time, but there really isn’t a lot for me to do on most of your cases. I mean, that case we worked in Ozona this summer? For the first half of the investigation, I was sitting in the station doing diddly-squat. My expertise is in crime scene analysis and maybe chemical warfare. I love you guys, but it’s starting to look like I need to get another job to go along with this one that allows me to leave suddenly, or I need to find work elsewhere in the Bureau.”

Garcia seemed to be contemplating this, looking for a solution. “Are you certain you don’t want to be a profiler?”

“Not really? Maybe I’ll change my mind in a year or so, but I’ve never dreamed of being law enforcement. It really isn’t my scene.”

JJ smirked. “We might corrupt you yet.”

Lydia was trying to come up with something to respond to that when Garcia perked up with a sudden thought. “Reid! You have to show JJ and Lydia the rocket you made the other day!”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Rocket, huh? Are we talking mentos in a coke bottle ‘rocket’?”

He nodded. “Basically.”

“I want to see the rocket!” JJ exclaimed.

Spencer agreed, making them turn around so he could set it up in private. The three girls talked for a moment more before he said, “Okay, okay. It’s ready!”

On his desk was a small, black, plastic bottle with a grey cap. The edges around the cap were fizzing with some sort of carbonated liquid.

“Nothing’s happening,” JJ muttered and Spencer quickly shushed her.

“Watch!” he cried in anticipation. His fingers wiggled with excitement.

The sound raised in pitch until the bottle detached from the cap and flew into the air. The two blonde women squealed with excitement and Lydia laughed, until the whole group heard a cry of pain across the room.

“Ooh! Ah, what-?”

“I’m  _ so _ sorry, Emily,” Spencer apologized as the girls tried to hide their giggles.

“What was that?” she demanded, rubbing her forehead where the cup had hit her.

“Don’t you recognize a rocket when you see one?” Garcia teased, pointing at Spencer, who was clearly still guilty.

“I-I was merely demonstrating a physics law,” he stammered. “I-I-I didn’t mean to-”

“Oo!” she exclaimed, already on her way towards the group. “Show me!”

He started to set up again, making the girls flip away once more, much to Emily’s dismay.

“A magician doesn’t reveal his secrets,” Spencer told her and she rolled her eyes.

“But I thought you said it was physics.”

“Physics,” he agreed, before adding on, “...magic.”

Once they were allowed to turn around again, his hands were clasped in front of him, still eager to see the girls’ reactions.

Once more, it fizzled for a moment, before popping off of the desk and causing the group to spook at the sudden movement. More careful this time, they all watched where it would land, but apparently they weren’t careful enough, because upon its descent in front of someone’s foot, they all came to the realization that Hotch had just entered the bullpen.

He lifted up the discarded bottle in front of him and shook it in front of Reid’s face. Emily bolted back to her desk and JJ and Garcia tried to look distracted by something behind them, leaving Spencer and Lydia to face the unit chief alone.

“Physics magic?” he asked, understandingly.

“Yes, sir?” Spencer mumbled. He dropped his head ashamed, clearly having been caught showing off that trick before.

“Reid, we talked about this,” Hotch warned, dropping the bottle onto his desk.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Suddenly, Hotch’s features shifted into a more intrigued expression. “You're really starting to get some distance on those.”

Spencer’s proud smile was so adorable Lydia couldn’t stand it. She wanted to compliment him more just to see it for longer, but Hotch’s attention was suddenly on her.

“Ambers, are you here visiting?”

“No, sir,” she explained. “I came to talk to you, actually. If you’ve got some time?”

He nodded. “No problem.”

The two of them left the bullpen and walked into his office. When he finally turned around to face her, his face was split in a grin. 

“You know, I think you’re one of the only people in the office who’s not terrified of me?” he admitted.

“Should I be?” she joked. “Are you going to fire me now for watching Spencer show off a small trick?”

He shook his head. “As of right now, you aren’t on duty. If I so choose, I can decide not to hire you again, but you’re a private and independent worker so I do not have any power to strip you of your job.”

“That’s kind of crazy to think about,” Lydia informed him. “And to be honest, that’s what I’m here for. I’m trying to figure out if I  _ want  _ to be an agent or not.”

Hotch looked a little surprised, but he nodded. “That’s reasonable. What are your concerns?”

She ended up speaking to him for almost an hour about the cases she enjoyed working and the ones she didn’t and about the classes and exams she’d have to take to be a profiler. It was really enlightening. Lydia had spent so much time dedicating herself to forensics and she didn’t want her skills to go unused for the rest of her life. And Hotch could see her desire to be useful in ways the BAU couldn’t provide.

“Lydia, I think I should speak to some of the other units and see if they could use your help as well. I definitely don’t want you to think there isn’t enough work here for you, but I don’t control when and how crimes happen. So, you’re right. Perhaps some other departments might also find you valuable and you can take on more cases without having to leave the Bureau.”

“That’s the thing, Hotch, and it’s an interesting offer, but the reason I like the Bureau so much is because I enjoy working with you guys… the team. I guess I’m just worried about everyone throwing me around as needed and not being able to work with you all anymore. But I’ll do what I have to.

“The point of this was because it was suggested to me to become a college professor, recently. That would also take a lot of work and it isn’t exactly what I want to do with my life, but I’d be making money reliably and I could still do  _ this _ . Be here, for you guys, like I am now. And I’d like that, but I’d appreciate being able to see all my options. ‘Cause it’s kind of confusing, for now.”

He gave her a genuine smile and said, “We can work with confusing.”

~ ~ ~

That evening, Gideon’s contact popped up on her phone.

“Listen,” she picked up, “if Reid told you I wanted to go on a case, I was just joking-”

“ _ Lydia, we need you. Now. _ ”

She shut her eyes, tightly. She should stop assuming she knows what’s going on. “Okay, I’m on my way,” she told him. “What’s up?”

“ _ Morgan went home to Chicago for his mother’s birthday, _ ” Gideon began. “ _ And he’s been arrested by Chicago PD _ .”

_ That was unexpected. _ “What for?”

“ _ They think he’s killed a kid. We have a lot to do and I want you to stay with him while he’s in custody. _ ”

“Shit, Gideon,” she mumbled. “You have to clear his name.”

“ _ That’s why I need you _ ,” he explained. “ _ Get your ass to the jet, now. _ ”

~ ~ ~

The team was basically silent for flight and drive to the station. They were exhausted from their overnight flight and worried for their friend. It was just too weird.

Lydia followed Gideon closely once they were inside the building. She was jumping to help. This standing around and waiting for news was killing her slowly.

“Special Agent Hotchner, FBI,” Hotch announced as he entered the bullpen. “I’m looking for Detective… Gordinski.”

“I got this, Chuck,” a man said, dismissing the man at the front desk. He was bald, with a polite smile on his face. “How you guys doing? Wally Dennison, CPD.”

His reception, however, was less than friendly. “Where’s Agent Morgan?”

“Detective Gordinski’s in with the suspect now,” he explained

“I need to see him,” Hotch responded, sharply.

“When my partner’s finished talking to him,” Dennison offered, his eyes shifting around the group. Lydia kind of wanted to sock him across the face, but knew that for the moment, Hotch could do a lot better to get compliance.

“I have your superintendent's personal cell number,” Hotch began. “And in the interest of not running roughshod over another police agency, I’ve resisted calling him so far… I need to see Agent Morgan now.”

Dennison glanced at the team again. He was intimidated, Lydia was realizing. So, she let her strong desire to hit him really show on her face so that he didn’t think of disobeying anytime soon.

“I’ll get Gordinski. He’s the, uh, primary,” he conceded, before walking off.

“I don’t like them calling him a suspect,” Gideon grumbled and Hotch shook his head.

“Me neither.”

“Do you think I could get permission to survey the crime scene?” Lydia asked Gideon quietly.

“No,” he whispered. “And don’t try it. We have to figure out what evidence he has against Morgan from him or else it will look like we’re trying to disrupt the investigation.”

Lydia didn’t try to hide her disappointment. She was feeling antsy. Shuffling her feet anxiously.

“Hotch will bring you in with him,” Gideon told her. “Be understanding to him. Hotch can be a hardass sometimes and if Morgan is feeling cornered, he may resist that. Let him know that he can tell you anything. You’re on his side.”

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Good.”

“Detective Gordinski, CPD.” The man approaching was far less welcoming than Dennison, but at least he wasn’t fake. The entire group sized him up as he held out a hand to Hotch.

“You think an FBI agent, a BAU profiler, committed a homicide?” he demanded.

“Actually, three homicides at least, over 15 years.”

“Y- You think he’s a serial killer?” JJ stuttered.

“This is ridiculous!” Spencer agreed.

Hotch stayed professional while listening, but Lydia could see how much he thought this was bullshit. “Has he been charged with anything?”

“I got 72 hours for that,” Gordinski evaded.

“I’d like to see him,” Hotch repeated.

Finally the detective stepped out of his way. “Be my guest.”

“Ambers,” Hotch called as he stepped forward and she quickly fell into step behind him, but she didn’t make it far.

“Hold on,” Dennison said, reaching out for Lydia’s arm to stop her. “We’ve only invited Agent Hotchner in.”

Before she could stop herself, she ripped her arm from his grip. “Don’t put your fucking hands on me,” she hissed.

There were wide eyes across the precinct, which Hotch used to his advantage.

“Ambers comes with me,” he stated, walking farther into the precinct and nodding for her to follow. He was ready for a fight with Dennison, but figured he should pull it away from the group. Especially if Lydia was going to act so brash.

“Agent Hotchner,” Gordinski shouted, following him down the hallway.

The two of them turned around, Lydia crossing her arms across her chest, as if daring them to try to stop her again. Gordinski and Dennison were frustratingly stubborn and she didn’t have the patience for it.

“We can’t just allow anyone to speak to the suspect!” he argued, his face red with fury.

“This is Lydia Ambers,” Hotch explained as she pulled out her badge for them to see. “She does contracted work for the Bureau and she’s very knowledgeable in conducting interviews as well as analyzing evidence. I’m taking her in to speak to Agent Morgan with me and then I’d like her briefed on the evidence and case you have made against him, along with the rest of the team, do I make myself clear?”

Lydia wished she could live in that moment forever. Their faces as they realized they had no power to stop Hotch were laughable. She could have sworn that there was steam coming out of their ears. And it helped satiate her need to hit Dennison for holding her back like a child.

Finally, Gordinski decided he was done analyzing her badge and handed it back to her which she took sharply, stepping out of his way so that he could show them the way to the interrogation room Derek was in.

He had Dennison do that and instead went back to speak to the rest of the team. Lydia watched him go for a moment, then followed them through the precinct and into an interrogation room.

Morgan was sitting down, looking over some photos. He looked nervous when the door opened, which shifted to relief, then confusion.

“Lydia?”

“Hey, Derek,” she said, gently. “Are you okay?”

He nodded momentarily, before looking back at the photos in front of him. “This kid.” His voice was careful and controlled. He knew things looked bad for him and there was perhaps guilt on his conscience. “I was with him yesterday.”

“So?” Hotch shrugged, knowing full well that Morgan needed to keep his head clear and prove his innocence.

Dennison was still hovering by the door, drinking a coffee. Lydia was trying very hard not to look at him, because his presence made her furious.

“So, he’s dead.” Morgan dropped the photo onto the table and Lydia instinctively reached for it.

“You shouldn’t-” Dennison began, but she flipped on him.

“If you so much as think about touching me again, I’ll break your nose,” she threatened. “Those are crime scene photos and as a part of this investigation, I have a right to look at them.”

He shut up quickly, sinking back into the corner of the room and she turned back to Derek who was completely baffled by her outburst. So, she tried to go back to her kindness tactic.

“May I see those, Derek?”

He nodded, lifting the stack up for her to flip through. Then, he went back to what he was saying. “I drove him home, Hotch, and Gordinski’s saying I was the last person seen with him.”

Lydia looked over them. Two were of the boy who’d died last night. Damien Wallace. He was lying in what looked like a dump. There were no evident wounds on his body, but his eyes were sunken and cold in the close up shot and his tongue was swollen, sticking out between his lips. If she had to guess, he’d been strangled.

There were photos of a different kid, that one clearly having been strangled by the marks around his neck.

And finally, there was a mountain’s worth of photos of him. Derek Morgan. They were all taken on the same day, what she could only assume to be yesterday. He was standing in a cemetery, looking down on a grave. He was leaning up against a car, outside of a dugout, watching a group of kids play football.

“Did Gordinski take these?” she inquired, sitting down at the table and laying out the pictures.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Dude was stalking me all day.”

Hotch also sat down at the table, looking at the collection. “Tell me the story from the beginning,” he insisted.

“I- I guess it starts when I was 15,” he started. “I was coming home from football practice one day. Me and my boy, we were goofing off, you know, we were throwing a football around. It landed in an empty lot and I snuck in to get it and I found this kid. The only person that I’d ever seen dead before that was my father… when I was ten. I mean, there I was, I was looking at this kid, and he was my own age, Hotch. Dead in this vacant lot. And he was never identified. Nobody knew who he was, nobody ever even reported him missing. And that, that just didn’t sit right with me. So I… felt responsible for him, I mean, I was the one that found him, right?

“I went around the neighborhood, door to door, trying to start a collection, and… eventually I got enough so I could bury him and… I gave him a little headstone.”

“What did you put on the headstone if he wasn’t identified?” Hotch asked.

“Just the date. I left room for a name in case he was identified”

“And you still visit him?”

“Hotch, I go see this kid every time I’m home. I just feel like he deserves to have somebody look in on him.”

The unit chief shrugged. “Gordinski must read that as a guilty conscience, a killer revisiting his victim. But that can’t be the only reason he suspects you.”

Morgan sighed loudly. “Believe me, that guy’s had it in for me my entire life.”

“He’s supremely confident that you’re his killer.”

He didn’t respond, but Lydia could see his frustration. He didn’t like Hotch questioning him. He likely thought it was an invasion of privacy, which Lydia could totally understand, but it worried her. If Morgan was keeping secrets from the team, things could end up ugly.

Lydia caught Hotch’s eye and glanced over at Dennison and the door, hoping he’d catch her drift and get him out of there. Luckily, Hotch understood and got up from his seat.

“Morgan, Lydia’s here in case you need anything. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Derek just nodded, dropping his head into his hands. With the detective and Hotch gone, Lydia reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry that this has happened.”

“Lydia, these boys are dying,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands, “and I can’t do anything.”

“The  _ team  _ is doing something. They’re going to figure this out. But obviously there’s a lot of history here that we don’t understand.”

“Yeah,” he replied, sitting up. “ _ My _ history. The person I was then and the person I am now are completely different.”

“Believe me, I probably understand that more than anyone else on the team. I’m not here to force you to say something, but I want you to know, Derek… Those detectives out there only remember the old you. And when they realize that we don’t see you the same way, they’re going to try to warp the team’s perspective of you. They know things about your past that we don’t, don’t they? Gordinski and Dennison? I just think you should consider what that might be and whether or not you want the team to hear it from their mouths or from yours.”

He huffed. “Why should I listen to you about keeping secrets? I mean, no offense Lydia, but you aren’t exactly an open book.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together as if to wash off old dirt. “You’re right. I’m not. But if it will help us help you, I will be. If it will convince you to tell me whatever it is that you didn’t tell Hotch, I’ll tell you everything about my life.”

He shook his head, for the first time, looking absolutely exhausted. “Lydia, this is my life. And I just want to keep my personal stuff and my work stuff separate. I  _ need  _ that.”

“What’s going to change if we find out?” she asked, honestly. “Are you worried that we’ll treat you different? Is it bad enough to get you removed from the Bureau?”

“No!” he cried. “No! It’s just that it’s my business!”

Lydia wanted to respond to that, but the door suddenly opened and Hotch was carrying in a new file.

“What’s that, Hotch?” Morgan questioned, getting up from his seat.

Lydia could tell something was wrong. Hotch had lost his carefulness. Up until that point, he gave Morgan the floor to speak, explain himself, try to determine what had happened. But when he walked in, his concern was elsewhere.

“You have a criminal record,” he stated.

Morgan glanced at the file and Hotch handed it over to him. “What? Where did you get this?”

“What difference does that make?” Hotch rolled his eyes as if he was actually dealing with a serial killer. Lydia couldn’t help feeling furious with him.

“Hotch, this was supposed to be expunged,” he insisted. “My record’s clean.”

“I asked you if there was anything you hadn’t told me.”

“A judge expunged this. It doesn’t exist anymore, man.” Morgan waved the papers in front of him wildly. “I was a kid, it’s nothing.”

“Aggravated battery?” Hotch demanded.

Lydia got up from her seat, trying to diffuse the situation. “Hotch, why does it matter? I mean, you know about my past. If this-” she pointed at the file “-is enough to accuse him of homicide, you should probably put me in a straightjacket now!”

He glared at her, but made no attempt to reprimand her. “Morgan, tell me about the charges.”

“Ok… I was with some guys, we got into a fight with some other guys. Rodney, this gangbanger, we got into it a little bit, we knocked each other around, he got a couple of stitches in his head so they made it aggravated. That’s it! If you want someone to look into, try him. He’s been following me around since I got home!”

“You should have told me,” Hotch argued. “You know how important accurate information is to victimology.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Morgan barked. “Victimology?”

“It’s very likely the latest victim was an attempt to set you up,” Hotch explained.

“Are you profiling me?” he demanded, angrily.

“Morgan, we need to look at-”

“No! We don’t need to do anything!” he shouted.

Hotch’s voice got dangerously low. “Derek, you’re in trouble here.”

Morgan laughed. “Hotch, I didn’t do this. I am not worried about Gordinski out there-!”

“You still have three dead children.”

“Okay. Okay! So you profile them. That’s the case.”

There was a beat. “Is there still something else you don’t want us to find out about?”

“Hotch, I don’t need the people I work with going into my entire world,” he insisted, repeating what he’d said to Lydia.

Hotch simply turned around and left again. Lydia figured Morgan would be angry, but was shocked to see him turn it on her.

“What the hell, Lydia? What, you two got some good cop, bad cop scheme going? You’re sitting here trying to convince me to open up so that you guys can make me a victim in one of your case files?”

She sat down, letting her body relax into a completely calm state. He hadn’t reacted well to Hotch’s aggression, just as Gideon thought he might, so he wouldn’t be expecting this.

“I’m not a profiler,” she replied, flatly. “So, no. I’m not playing good cop. Gideon told me that you were going through a lot and that you’d need someone on your side today. Just in case something like this happened. Just in case things got messy. I don’t want anything from you, Derek. I’m here to be your friend.”

He scoffed. “Two minutes ago you were trying to convince me to trade secrets with you!”

“Because, as your  _ friend _ , I thought that was what you needed. Someone to talk to. Someone to know what was going on and defend you. I thought if I opened up myself, you might realize that we aren’t that different. I understand you more than I think you know.”

“How?”

She reached across the table to grab the abandoned juvenile record. “Aggravated battery, huh? You remember how you asked me what my childhood fear was and I said it was getting kicked out of school?”

His eyes widened. “For getting into fights…” he recalled.

“Yes, sir. And you laughed at me. Said you didn’t believe me. I get it. I’m not the same person I was in high school-”

“You flipped out on Dennison earlier,” he continued. “When he told you not to look over the crime scene photos.”

She nodded. “You should have seen the scene I made out in the bullpen earlier… He tried to stop me from going in to see you and I ripped my arm away. I don’t even remember, I was just seeing red.”

He chuckled, finally relaxing a bit and sitting down beside her. “So, you were serious? You really have some anger management problems?”

“Yeah… did yours start after your dad died?”

He looked down at his hands. “I was ten. My dad was a cop. We were out together and we saw a robbery happening in a store. So, he went to stop it and he got shot.”

Lydia cleared her throat. “Okay, my turn. When I was ten, I found my mom in the bathroom, lying on the floor, foaming at the mouth. She’d overdosed on her antidepressants. Not enough to look like a suicide, but enough for it to feel like it wasn’t an accident.” She shrugged, setting her forearms on her desk. “The first person I ever punched was some journalist who wanted to know if there was a chance my mom had been murdered. They wouldn’t leave me alone. For days.”

“I’d be pissed, too,” he admitted.

“I’d be pretty upset if my mom had been killed by someone else,” she conceded as well. “If I had someone to blame for my mother’s death other than my mother, I would probably have a criminal record, too… I would find a way to make them pay.”

He settled down even more, watching Lydia carefully to see if he could point out any ulterior motives for her to be there, telling him this. But he couldn’t think of any. She was being extremely genuine. A true friend.

“In order to get something like this expunged, you’d have to become a model student,” she reasoned. “What helped you keep going?”

“Football.”

She smiled. “That’s funny. For me it was boxing.”

He chuckled in agreement. “So, maybe you were right. We had similar childhoods. Do you still box?”

“When I’m upset I find a gym or nearby ring. It’s the only way I can stop myself from beating up the people who get on my nerves.”

He gave a genuine laugh as she said that. “Well, I’m sure you can find a boxing ring in Chicago, but I’m just putting out there that you have my full permission to sock Dennison if it comes to it.”

“Be careful,” she teased. “You’re already on his bad side.”

“So are you, it seems.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a problematic person.”

~ ~ ~

“Hotch wants to talk to you,” Gideon announced as he walked into the interrogation room.

Lydia hesitated to leave Derek, even if just for a moment. “What about?”

“I don’t know.” Gideon was evidently tired. The last time she saw him this washed up was when they were dealing with the Fisher King. “I’ll stay here, don’t worry.”

She locked eyes with Morgan. “You gonna be okay?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he grumbled.

She nodded finally and left, finding Hotch standing directly outside, looking through the double-sided mirror.

“I know I can be abrupt at times, but if Morgan is involved in something he doesn’t feel comfortable to tell us about, that is a concern to the integrity of the team and I need to know it,” he told her, not looking away from the window in front of him. “I don’t need people arguing with me while I try to figure out what that is. He may not be proud of his past, but we needed to know about his criminal record and you tried to prevent that.”

“What good has the criminal record done you so far?” she inquired.

He stayed stoic, not responding.

“Fine, Hotch. I’m sorry I lashed out at you. May I see my friend again?”

“No,” he replied. “I want you to stay with JJ for a little while and see what Garcia finds on him.”

“You’re having Garcia pull up files on him like a suspect?” Lydia demanded.

“He is  _ not  _ a suspect,” Hotch snapped, finally looking at Lydia. “But right now, we have nothing. The only evidence that the police have provided is the circumstances that point to him. We are profilers-”

“Then go be profilers!” she shouted back. “Three kids have been murdered. One of which, we know the name of. Damien Walters. Have you talked to his family? Maybe  _ tried  _ to get Gordinski to tell you more about his two John Doe victims? Right now, the only lead I see you following is the one where Morgan’s a suspect.”

“We came here to prove his innocence. Not solve a case.”

“As if you could prevent yourself from stopping a bad guy when you see one,” she hissed. “You have  _ always  _ respected my privacy on this team. Any one of them could probably google my name and find out about my parents, so there’s no reason for me to hide it. But you let me. Because there are some things that are hard to talk about. And sometimes it changes the way people look at you.”

“Do you think he’s willing to go to jail for those secrets?”

“No, but it hasn’t come to that yet! ...Trust him.”

Lydia had to step away, knowing she was about to say or do something she’d regret. _ How could they not understand? _

She waved to JJ as she passed, but didn’t stop. She needed to go outside and take a breather. Take a few moments for herself. That was all.

She paced outside the precinct for several minutes, jumping around slightly, but it wasn’t enough. If she went back in there, she might lose it. She hadn’t blacked out during an episode in a long time, but in that moment, she felt capable of a lot.

Sighing, she tugged off her jacket, wrapping one of the sleeves around her hand to soften the blow. _ This would have to do for now. _

~ ~ ~

When she walked back inside, Hotch and Gideon were with JJ, the three of them talking quietly. She quickly brushed her fingers through her hair and threw her jacket back over her shoulders.

“You guys are leaving him alone now?” she asked.

“He’s not being very compliant,” Hotch said, shortly. “We need to spend our time elsewhere.”

“Like?”

A new voice spoke up from behind Hotch. “You folks work with Derek Morgan?”

Hotch turned around immediately. “Yes, sir. Closely.”

“You knew him well as a teenager?” Gideon inquired.

The man had just been getting coffee and slowly approached them. “One of the finest boys I’ve ever coached. Football. I run a youth center.”

Gideon smiled politely. “I gather you were instrumental in helping to get his criminal records expunged.”

“I feel terrible about that now,” he admitted, shaking his head. He looked almost like a disapproving parent.

“You do?” JJ asked.

“Well, in view of what’s happened-”

“What’s happened is a mistake,” Gideon explained.

His eyebrows knit together. “I’m confused. I thought Stan said there was all kinds of evidence.”

As if smelling the probability that someone would disprove his theory, Gordinski appeared at his side. “There is. Thanks, Carl. You can take Miss Walters home now. I appreciate you bringing her in.”

“Of course, of course… Derek Morgan. It’s still hard for me to believe.”

“For them, too,” Gordinski dismissed.

“I can understand that. Derek had a way of charming people into looking past his deficiencies.”

Suddenly, Lydia had tunnel vision. She didn’t even hear JJ’s question, because she was solely focused on Carl’s behavior. His words bounced around her head:  _ I feel terrible… all kinds of evidence… hard for me to believe… _

_ Derek’s deficiencies. _

“Derek was at the youth center yesterday, wasn’t he?” Hotch was saying when Lydia snapped back to herself.

“Playing football with Damien Walters and some other boys,” Carl agreed.

“Carl’s the one that saw ‘em leaving together,” Gordinski intervened.

“Did you talk to him?” Hotch continued.

“I was working inside. By the time I was done, they were leaving.”

“And when was the last time you did talk to him?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Years.”

As he was saying that, he did something strange. He looked Hotch up and down as if sizing him up. It was almost like he was threatened by his presence.

Carl started to say his goodbyes to Gordinski and Hotch stepped away from the group, towards Derek’s holding cell. Before he could get too far, something came over Lydia and she ran after him.

“Wait, Hotch-” she called, stumbling up beside him.

“Yes,” he began, impatiently.

“I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but may I have permission to go with that guy back to the youth center?”

“Why?”

She paused for a moment, trying to piece everything she’d seen together in her head. “That interaction didn’t seem weird to you?” she demanded.

“Of course it did,” he snapped. “We find out there’s a guy in town who saved Morgan’s life and he doesn’t even talk to him anymore?”

“Not on Morgan’s side!” she retorted. “On his! He probably put a lot of effort into getting Derek’s records expunged. And then the second a cop tells him that Derek’s a serial killer, he doesn’t even ask for proof? And he’s talking about Derek’s ‘deficiencies’-”

“Maybe they’re not on good terms anymore.”

“And you think it’s Derek’s fault? I think it’s his. If he thought Derek was capable of murdering children, why would he let him hang around the youth center?” She took in a breath, not realizing she’d been running her sentences together. “Please? I’ll just talk to some of the kids and this way I’ll be out of your hair.”

He didn’t look pleased and Lydia thought for sure she was going to be sent away again, but Hotch just glanced over her shoulder and said, “Mr. Buford?”

She flipped around, just in time to see Carl stop by the door and turn back to them. “Yes?”

“May my team member come along with you to the center? Just to speak to some kids Derek was with?”

He didn’t look pleased. It took him several moments, just staring at Lydia to finally say, “Sure.”

~ ~ ~

She’d barely made it to the center when Hotch’s name appeared on her screen. She excused herself quickly, staying on the sidewalk outside the building as she picked up.

“What’s up?”

“ _ Morgan’s disappeared. He ran from the station. _ ”

“What?! What the hell is he thinking?”

“ _ Do  _ not  _ tell Buford _ .”

“I won’t,” she told him quickly. “Do you want me to search nearby or…?”

“ _ No. Stay put. I have reason to believe that Derek might come to you. Don’t confront him unless you think he’s going to do something dangerous. _ ”

She tried once more not to lash out at Hotch for a lack of trust. “You think he’s coming for Buford?”

“ _ Stay there, _ ” he repeated.

Lydia put her phone down, trying to come up with the best way to see this through. Hotch wanted her to stay, but Lydia knew that Morgan was going to want to speak to Carl alone. And she should trust him to do that, right? And if she ended up hanging out inside the center, Buford might get suspicious… but Hotch was already super upset with her.

Pulling herself together, she made up her mind and walked inside. “Mr. Buford?”

“Yes?” he called from his office.

“It looks like my supervisor wants me back at the station.”

“Has something happened?” he asked, almost immediately. He was sitting up straight in his chair, staring at her intently.

“No, no,” Lydia dismissed as calmly as possible. “With the night falling so quickly, he’s considering wrapping up for the day. It seems,” she stated, glancing around, “that you don’t have too many kids here still anyway. I should come back tomorrow.”

His posture relaxed instantaneously. “Alright. Do you know how to get back?”

“Yes. My coworker is going to drive by and pick me up. Thank you.”

She left him there, stepping back outside and away from the door, so that if Buford decided to leave, he wouldn’t see her still standing out there. She made sure she still had a clear view of the entrance however. No one would go in or out without her knowledge.

It wasn’t until she was finally sure that Carl wouldn’t be able to see her that she noticed two people in a dugout across the street. It was too dark to make out anything other than their silhouettes, but she would bet quite a lot to say that was Derek over there. The other person was shorter and thinner. If she had to guess, one of the kids from the youth center.

They just talked for a while. Their close proximity made Lydia think the conversation was personal. And then, the kid left. Derek stood in the center of the dugout, just watching him go.

Lydia stepped out from her spot around the corner as he walked out onto the street and towards the youth center.

“Hey, Derek,” she started, softly.

He was stunned by her presence, but for the first time since she got to Chicago, he didn’t seem upset. He was resigned. He had a plan. And whatever he was going to do once he entered that building, he was committed to it. “Lydia, how did you find me?”

“I was following Buford… I didn’t trust him.”

Finally, she walked out to the center of the sidewalk, meeting him face to face. She glanced at the door before back at him.

“Do you want company when you go in there?”

He shook his head.

“Okay… I think Hotch is on the way. He thought you might end up here.”

“I know.”

“Should I let him in?” she inquired. “When he gets here?”

Morgan reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll know what to do. You just stay right here and wait until this is all over, okay kiddo?”

“Of course.”

She didn’t know what it was. Whatever Hotch or Gideon or any of them found out, she couldn’t see it. So, she worried that when he came back out he’d be a different person. And she wanted to give him a final hug before he disappeared behind that door.

But he needed to keep his thoughts collected right now. So she let him go.

By the time Hotch and Gideon arrived, she was just about ready to head in herself. Not for Morgan’s sake, but because Chicago in December was _ freezing cold. _ Alone, in the dark, standing on the sidewalk and freaking out about her friend was a bit too much.

Gordinski and Dennison were with them. And since Hotch wasn’t running the case, he listened to them when they asked the three Bureau members to stay outside while they figured out what was happening.

And they left with Carl Buford in handcuffs.

Lydia slipped right past them, walking into the youth center and up to Derek, in the center of the room. He had tears streaming down his face, but he looked at her with expectation. He needed to know that it was worth it. And it was.

She reached out, finally wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him in close. “You did it. You did your job today. You caught the bad guy. I’m so proud of you.”

She didn’t need to know what had happened between them. Buford was going down for the murder of three children. And Morgan… he’d be okay.

~ ~ ~

“Where have you been?” Lydia teased as she sat down across Spencer on the jet.

“Emily left me at Mrs. Morgan’s house,” he groaned. “I spent the evening with his sisters. I hear you let Morgan escape from the station.”

“Oh no,” she replied, shaking her head. “I got kicked out long before that happened.”

“Kicked out?”

She looked down at her lap, then turned around and glanced at Hotch across the plane. “Yeah… Turns out Hotch doesn’t like it when you argue with him in front of other agents. I have some things to apologize for when we land.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s got some things to say sorry for, too,” Spencer reassured her.

She simply shrugged, moving on. “Were his sister’s nice?”

He nodded. “After a little while. They were somewhat accusing when Emily and I started questioning them, but Emily convinced them we were there to help. They uh… they knew who I was. They said Derek talked about me sometimes.”

“You two have been working together for years,” Lydia said with a smile. “You really thought he didn’t tell his family about one of his closest friends on the job?”

“You think he considers us friends?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I know he does, Spencer. Do you?”

“Think he considers us friends?”

“Consider him a friend,” she clarified.

“Yeah. Yes, of course.”

“Good.”

Lydia reached for her bag and pulled out her laptop to work on her dissertation for the rest of the flight. Spencer had been right the day before to say that she was in the home stretch of her graduate work. And it would be quite the hard run. But god would it be rewarding.

...she hoped.

Once the jet landed and the team started to file off, Lydia picked up her bag, only to be stopped by Spencer. They were the farthest back, so everyone was stepping off the platform and couldn’t see them. She gave him a look of utter confusion.

“Your knuckles are bruised,” he said, quietly.

He always knew, didn’t he?

“I was upset after my fight with Hotch,” she explained. “I’m okay now, I promise. It’s really nothing.”

He hesitantly nodded. “Okay. Do you possibly want to get something to eat?”

She laughed, finally making her way out of the aisle and off the plane. “Spencer, it’s like 3 in the morning.”

“All I’ve had to eat for most of the day is cake,” he argued.

_ Cake? _ Lydia thought. _ ...Wait. _

“ _ You ate his mom’s birthday cake?? _ ”


	12. No Way Out (S2E13)

The small diner was a quaint area to conduct her first interview with a serial killer. She would have appreciated different circumstances, like no bystanders or some sort of upper hand over him, but her choices were limited at the time. There was a calm murmur around the single-room restaurant. As they entered a waitress approached them, but Lydia paid her no attention.

_ You walk in first. Look like you’re in charge. Don’t look to me for any help. You know what you’re doing. If he doesn’t respect you, he won’t tell us where she is. Make him respect you _ .

A man sat alone in a booth, facing away from the door. Gideon had told her all about this man.  _ He doesn’t feel fear. He doesn’t know how. When you speak to him, neither will you. _

_ A man in his late 50s. Average height. Grey hair. _

She stood next to the table and waited for him to acknowledge her. When he didn’t turn away from the window, she said, “Is this seat taken?”

He was completely smug to see her standing there beside him. It was sickening. But she acted as though she reveled in his attention.

“Please,” he replied, gesturing to the cushioned seat across from him. “You should try Fat Sam’s milkshakes.”

She shook her head, leaning back comfortably in the booth. “Not in the mood. I’m cold and tired.”

“You’re also not from around here.”

She shrugged in acquiescence. “Where are  _ you  _ from?”

Gideon silently stood beside the table, watching the man across from her intently. He gave away nothing as they spoke, but his serene composure was evidence enough. They knew he had done it. That’s not why they were there.

Morgan stayed by the door, glancing outside at the cop cars surrounding the building.

The waitress approached, dropping a milkshake with the extra in a separate cup on the table in front of them.

“You really should try the shakes,” he tried again, pulling the pink drink towards him.

“Is that an offer to have some of yours?”

He shook his head, sternly. “What’s your name?” When she didn’t respond he tried again. “Come on. Names are a hobby of mine.”

“Lydia.”.

“I’ve never met a Lydia before,” he admitted. Then, he nodded towards Gideon. “What’s his name?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

Gideon didn’t wait for him to decide, putting his hands down on the edge of the table. “My name is Jason Gideon.”

“Jason. From Greek Mythology. To heal.” he said, sounding like he was reciting from a textbook. “Gideon. A hero from the old testament who led the Israelites against the Midianites. Your parents had great ambitions for you.” He looked back at Lydia. “I’m Frank. Germanic. Third century. Deprived from the name of a type of spear. I wonder what aspirations my parents had for me.”

“Why don’t we cut the crap, Frank?” Morgan interrupted, walking over to their table. “Where is she?”

He didn’t take his eyes off Lydia. “Now, that’s direct.”

“You’ll have to excuse Morgan, he doesn’t have our patience,” she said, sizing him up for a moment to show him she wasn’t intimidated. “If you’d prefer that I’d be more forward, though, I can work that out. You were right, I’m not from around here. I work for the FBI.”

The whole room went silent, many turning to stare at the group. She pulled out her badge, sliding it across the table to Frank.

He didn’t touch it, just stared for several moments. “You’re not an agent,” he remarked.

Bad idea. She was losing his respect. “I’m not old enough. You’re too old. They’re picky at the Bureau, like that.”

“How do you know how old I am?” he asked curiously.

“You can learn a lot about a person by who and how he kills others. We were looking for a male in his mid- to late-fifties. Listens to Beehtoven. Wears a corduroy jacket with a fleece-lined collar.” She glanced at his coat, then back at him. “He’s left handed. In his right, inside jacket pocket will be a notebook,” as she said this, Morgan reached across Frank and pulled a small, black notebook from the very spot Gideon had told her it would be, “and it will give the extensive detailed accounts of the torture inflicted on every one of his victims… Do you know anyone like that, Frank?”

He smirked. “That’s quite the magic trick.”

She had him back. He was impressed. She grabbed her ID from the table and slid it back into her pocket.

“No magic trick, Frank,” Morgan growled. “Just the profile of a sadistic serial killer.”

People nearby started to look around frantically. Lydia knew that Morgan and Gideon would have to get them out soon, else they might cause a panic that interrupted the investigation. But Gideon told her that no matter what happened, she had to keep her focus on Frank. So, she did.

“Ambers, this thing is brand new,” Morgan said, flipping through the booklet. He followed Gideon’s instructions, speaking to her like she was in charge. “There’s only 2 entries in it: ‘black male, 220 pounds, portly; white female, late twenties’. This doesn’t prove anything.”

She raised an eyebrow at Frank. “Hm. Were you scared, Frank? Why hide the work that you were so proud of?”

“Guess what,” he continued, ignoring her question. “When I’m finished with my shake, you’ll get what you’re here for, but then… I’m going to get up… And I’m going to walk out of here… And you and your lap dogs are going to let me.”

This was good. Calling them her lap dogs indicated that he completely believed their act. So, she matched his pompous attitude. “You know what, Frank? That would be a magic trick.”

For the first time since sitting down, she turned away from him and looked out the window at the cars and officers surrounding them. There was no way for him to get out alive. But clearly, he didn’t care about that. They needed some other way to get him to tell them where the sheriff was.

“He’s looked at that clock three times in as many minutes,” Morgan noted. “He’s waiting for something.”

Frank glanced at him. “If I had your looks, do you know how much easier my life would be?”

“If you think you’re going to negotiate your way out of this one, you’ve got a whole ‘nother thing coming.”

Lydia sat up. The deputies told her she had 15 minutes to talk, and then they were coming in. If Frank really was waiting for something, might as well keep him busy until it happened. “Do you want to know how we caught you?”

“Please,” he nodded, but he knew. He had been the one to lead them there.

“Ambers, those men out there want to kill this guy,” Morgan argued. “We’re in the middle. We don’t have time for explanations.”

“You have the time it will take me to finish this shake,” Frank told her.

The milkshake again. He was planning to finish it before leaving. She wondered if there was a way to stall or speed up the process. And what would Gideon want? He could be waiting for something awful to happen, but at the moment, they had nothing to do, but wait.

“That’s all I need,” she informed him.  _ Keep talking. _ “We got a request from Sheriff Georgia Davis. She had two victims in the Desert Rose National Park that had been dismembered. They asked the BAU to determine if this had been the same killer who left a dismembered body in the park 10 years ago. You see, serial killers don’t usually just stop killing. So, 10 years with no bodies was strange. And we like strange.

“A little research and we discovered hundreds of unsolved cases. Spanning 30 years and the whole country. All of them were people who lived on the outskirts of society, not a lot of friends. They were all left along the I-80 highway. And every dismembered torso that was recovered was missing a right rib bone.” She tsked. “That’s dedication. I believe Gideon’s exact words were, ‘the most prolific serial killer ever’.”

“Wow,” Frank replied, more to Gideon than her. “You truly think-”

“I know it,” Gideon snapped.

“And so,” Lydia continued. “We came to Nevada.”

Finally, Morgan and Gideon split up, telling the patrons of the restaurant, one by one, to get up quietly and leave in an orderly fashion. Lydia watched Frank closely, making sure he wouldn’t have a negative reaction to them letting innocent people out. But he just stared back, waiting for her to keep talking.

“You were saying?” he pressed.

“You dose them with ketamine and bring them to your trailer. The ceiling has a mirror, so that they can watch you mark where you’re going to cut them and as you dismember them, you cauterize their arteries, so that they won’t bleed to death as you torture them. It’s excruciating, they’re trapped in their own bodies, completely helpless. And you look them in the eyes as you do it. It’s how you get your high off the kill. They look so scared and you love it, don’t you?

“Although,” she reasoned, “I don’t think love is the right word. You are a psychopath. You can’t feel anything, can you? You’re incapable of remorse, compassion, and even love.”

He looked away when she said that. But not at the clock. Not at Gideon or Morgan. Just off into the distance. It was the first time he’d done that. What she’d just said had hit a nerve with him. She wanted to cry with relief, knowing she was getting somewhere.

“Do you disagree?” she inquired.

“Beauty can cover a multitude of sins,” Frank explained. “But underneath… we all look…  _ exactly  _ the same.”

“You are not leaving this diner,” Morgan hissed.

Frank just shrugged. “I don’t want to. Not until her story is done.” And then, he glued his eyes onto Lydia again, taking a sip of his milkshake.

“Thirty years ago, you picked up a girl on the side of the road. She was barely twenty. Her name was Jane. When she woke up in your trailer, she thought she’d been abducted by an alien. I spoke to her yesterday. She told me how beautiful it was. And how she looked into your eyes and felt completely relaxed. And you couldn’t kill her. Because she wasn’t afraid of you. People in town call her Crazy Jane, because no one believes her story, but she didn’t make it up. She just couldn’t understand at the time what you really were.”

“I read about a woman whose body was found in her apartment-- upper east side, I think.”

“If this is a confession,” Morgan interrupted. “Start with the woman you just took.”

“She had killed herself. But her body wasn’t found for more than a year. Surrounded by over a million people, and not one of them missed her. What does that say about society?”

“Don’t act like you care about her,” Lydia snapped. “Those that society forgets-- the throwaways, the runaways, destitute, disenfranchised-- they’re the very people you target… But not last night. Last night you took someone of prominence. Someone that mattered to everyone. Why?”

“That’s an interesting question, Lydia… Why?”

There was a commotion outside. But Gideon had promised that he would deal with any outside factors. So she stayed completely engaged with Frank.

“Gideon,” Morgan warned, pulling out his gun. A man had just entered the diner with a shotgun. 

This was not part of the plan. She still had 5 minutes to talk to Frank before the deputies came in. 

“Sir, do not come any closer,” Morgan ordered, but their newest threat was not in the right headspace. His eyes and gun were pointed at Frank.

“That man has my wife!”

_ Mr. Davis. Not good, not good.  _ In her peripheral vision, she could see Gideon and Morgan blocking the aisle towards her and Frank, but if he decided to shoot from there, Lydia was in trouble.

“Please, put the gun down,” Morgan continued.

Lydia could feel Gideon’s eyes on her. Frank may have been closer, but she was still in the line of fire. Perhaps he wanted her to break, in order to get out of harm’s way, but she wouldn’t. She had to convince Frank she was powerful. She wouldn’t back down yet.

“Tell me where my wife is or so help me, I will shoot you.”

“Sir, I said put the gun down now!”

“ _ Where’s my wife?!? _ ”

The yelling back and forth continued. Without breaking eye contact with her, Frank leaned down, picking up something from the floor and dropping it on the table. It was a carpet bag.

He smirked at her. “You know what’s an even more interesting question? What’s the psychopath got in the bag, Lydia?”

She shrugged, unimpressed, but her heart was trying to leap from her chest. It was the size of a head. And knowing Frank, it probably was one. Could she keep her poise if she came face to face with the head of Sheriff Georgia Davis?

“Open it,” Mr. Davis demanded.

“Put it down!” Morgan insisted.

“Open the bag!”

Lydia rolled her eyes dramatically and asked Frank to excuse her for a second. Then, she looked up at Mr. Davis for the first time. He was so scared. He needed to know if Frank had killed her. But Lydia could not drop her face for him.

“Mr. Davis, I cannot open this bag until you put the gun down.”

His hand was shaking, but finally, he lifted the barrel towards the ceiling and Morgan was able to ease it away from him. With the threat finally diminished, she focused herself once more.

“May I?” She shrugged towards the bag.

Mr. Davis kept repeating ‘I’ll kill you’ from the door and Frank just smiled at her.

With no disagreement from anyone in the room, she reached forward and unzipped the bag. She was holding her breath, preparing herself for what she’d find inside. And she’d been right about one thing.

Frank had brought them a head.

The head belonged to a black male. Nothing like the blonde, tiny sheriff. Her heart clenched at the sight of it, but the fact that it didn’t belong to someone she recognized saved her from losing face in front of him.

“It’s not her,” Morgan told Mr. Davis, who began crying on the spot.

“Oh, thank god,” he was murmuring.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“I believe the correct question would be: who  _ was  _ this?” Frank sneered.

“You’re one crazy son of a bitch!” Mr. Davis shouted and Morgan started to usher him off the premises.

“We are all sons of  _ bitches _ .” Frank looked disgusted by the sight of Lydia. Something had changed when she opened that bag. He stopped enjoying her presence. He didn’t like talking to her. But so long as he didn’t look down on her, she could work with him. 

“Who is this, Frank?” she demanded, more forcefully.

“He’s irrelevant. Beyond being my ticket out of here.”

“Your ticket _ out of here? _ ” Morgan cried, finally getting Mr. Davis out. “Even if you think you can get out of that booth and past us, I promise you those men out there will tear you to pieces.”

“I rather doubt that,” he grumbled. “So… finish the story, Lydia.”

“What do you want me to say?” she asked, calmly. “We set up a tip line for people to call. A nation-wide APB. We searched Golconda for an RV, later amended to truck and trailer, that was muted in color, in perfect working order, with a CB, radar detector, and police-band radio. And then, we got a call from Katherine Hale’s cell phone. That is, the Katherine Hale that you, so graciously, dumped in pieces two days ago. And we tracked her phone to Sheriff Davis’s house, where you had followed Crazy Jane. But Jane got away. And you, in your desperation to have her, took Sheriff Davis. Then, you came back here and turned on Katherine Hale’s cell phone so that we would come to you. But something has to happen first, no? You can’t tell us your deal until you’re done with your damn milkshake.”

“I thought you were interesting, Lydia,” he said, out of the blue. “People have such deep emotions. I knew you were going to act all stoic, but I figured I could break you. Make you angry, sad, confused, afraid. I wanted to see how that mind of yours worked. But you saw that head and barely blinked. You’re just like me, aren’t you?”

Lydia couldn’t stop a small twitch of her eye.  _ He thought she was a psychopath? That’s why his demeanor changed all of a sudden? _

She smirked. “Sorry to disappoint, but you’re the only psychopath in this room.”

“That’s why they sent you, isn’t it? No one could look me in the eyes, knowing all that I’ve done, and keep up a conversation, but you. That man who came in had a gun on the two of us, and even when your partners stepped out of the way, you didn’t break eye contact. Don’t you have to be just a little insane to be able to do that?”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand. It doesn’t look good on you.”

He didn’t argue with her, finally leaning forward and taking the final sip from his drink. All eyes were on him as he slurped loudly and sighed, dropping the glass on the table.

“One is perfection. Two is decadent.”

This was it. Final showdown. Whatever he’d been waiting for, it would happen now.

He turned away from the booth, sliding out, but Morgan had his gun out in a second.

“You take another step and I will shoot you.”

“No you won’t,” Frank argued, but Lydia’s words did keep him in place.

“What was it that Jane said to you?” she inquired. Poor Jane had survived this guy’s wrath only to live pitifully for the rest of her life. “She looked into your eyes. But that wouldn’t be enough for you. She must have said something. What was it?”

“I’m a sexual sadist,” he sneered. “I can’t feel anything. Remember?”

Morgan’s phone started ringing and he started talking to Hotch in the background.

“Are you trying to argue that? Did you feel something?”

“They just found his trailer,” Morgan announced to the room. “The remains of another woman  _ and  _ the sheriff, alive.”

They did it. They caught him. They saved the sheriff. But nothing about this was right. And Gideon knew it, too.

“He doesn’t care about the sheriff. To walk out of here with Jane, he’d need more than that.”

More hostages? Someone more important than the town sheriff? If someone like that disappeared, they’d already know about it.

“Jane said… how beautiful my eyes were,” Frank told Lydia, answering her question from earlier. “I looked at her like I’ve never looked at a woman before. My hands began to sweat. I dropped the knife. I tried to pick it up, but it fell again. I got butterflies in my stomach. Isn’t that love?”

“She was fascinating. More interesting than me. Or than all those you’ve killed.” More noises outside. Her 15 minutes were definitely up. “But sometimes, fear and love are easy to confuse.”

“Gideon. Ambers,” Morgan warned, watching people approach the door.

“What are you suggesting?” Frank inquired.

“We got George! She’s alive!” Deputy Silo announced as he burst in, the rest of the officers following him. “Get on the floor!”

“Take it easy!” Morgan stepped in front of them.

“Move!”

“Don’t ask dumb questions,” Lydia whispered. “You know I won’t answer them.”

“Take it easy!”

There was so much going on, she didn’t even register the entire group's cell phones beginning to ring. The high pitched buzzes echoed around the room.

And Frank smiled.

“No…” Silo sighed. “That’s impossible.”

He winked. “Magic time.”

~ ~ ~

Spencer listened as Emily softly comforted Sheriff Davis in the backseat. Being stuck in a trailer, in a coffin, all night was reason enough to be shaken up. But Frank was completely sadistic. She had seen his work. Probably first hand. There was no forgetting that.

Hotch pulled up to the diner where they had surrounded Frank abruptly. As they helped the sheriff out of the car, Spencer put on his sunglasses and surveyed the wall of cars and armed men set up around the building. They had him trapped alright.

“George!” her husband cried, pulling her into a hug. “Thank god. Thank god.”

“He killed Tommy’s teacher,” she sobbed. “I saw it. Annie. She was just 22.”

_ 22… He couldn’t imagine Lydia dying so horrifically at her age _ . Spencer saw some horrible things in his everyday life, but he’d never been the center of it. Being able to compare the body they’d just found to Lydia was not a comforting thought.

_ Where was Lydia? _

The sheriff’s husband started to explain their recent findings. Looks like Frank had killed the school bus driver on a kids field trip and abducted the kids. He’d been waiting all day for them to find the body of the bus driver and the abandoned bus.

“How?” she demanded. “We had the whole town shut down. There was no way out.”

“What was the one vehicle we weren’t looking for?” Hotch reasoned.

“School bus,” Spencer murmured.

Hotch stepped away from them towards the diner. “More importantly, where are the children?”

Spencer’s eyes followed him, then stopped upon looking into the diner windows. Frank was seated in a booth next to a window. There were multiple sheriff’s inside with guns pointed at his back. Gideon and Morgan stood to his side. And seated across from him, was…

“Oh my god, Lydia,” he breathed.

Emily followed his line of sight, seeing her in the window and felt a wave of sympathy for him. Followed by fear.

“If they shoot, they’re going to hit her,” she realized.

Spencer nodded frantically. “What is she _ thinking?! _ ”

~ ~ ~

Lydia wanted to drop her head into her hands. “You have the town’s children.”

Silo had looked like he was going to faint upon admitting that the school bus for the kids’ field trip was just recovered outside of town. The kids had never made it home.

“Only the little ones,” Frank teased. “You profiled me. You know I have no interest in harming children.”

“We will find them,” Morgan snapped. “We have helicopters, dogs-”

Frank kept his eyes on Lydia. “The desert is over 25,000 square miles. And what with the rising coyote population…”

“If it’s Jane you’re after, we don’t have her,” Morgan insisted.

“Yes, you do.”

He looked out the window just in time to see a new cop car approach. And low and behold, Crazy Jane stumbled out of the backseat.

Lydia turned back to him. There was a way to win this. She didn’t like it, but there was a way to get those kids back. “If you want us to make a deal for Jane, you are going to get up slowly and let Agent Morgan handcuff you. You follow our orders and walk out of the diner peacefully before we discuss your terms for getting those kids back. Are we clear?”

His lips pulled tightly around his teeth in what could hardly be called a smile. “Crystal.”

As he promised, he got up, his hands in front of him for Morgan to handcuff. And he said nothing as Gideon and Morgan roughly shoved him down the aisle and to the door.

Lydia’s eyes stung just knowing that his gaze wasn't fixed on her anymore, but she had to keep the act up for just a while longer. She allowed herself one deep breath before standing up and following them out.

Everyone’s eyes were focused on the group as they left. Mostly on Frank, but she caught a couple of the officer’s gazes as she stepped down. She could see Spencer, Hotch, and Emily standing with Jane. She couldn’t tell where any of them were looking, due to the fact that they were all wearing sunglasses, but if she had to bet, she was certain Spencer was scared for her. When Gideon had taken her away from the crime scene to talk to Frank instead, she didn’t even believe it. He had been training her to interrogate suspects for almost a year now, but she’d never had the opportunity before. Why now?

“Jane!” Frank shouted.

They both tried to run to each other, but were held back.

“Tell them, Lydia,” Frank insisted. “Tell them I’m not interested in harming children. Have I ever once harmed a child? It does nothing for me. Give me Jane… and they’ll have their children back.”

“Is she part of this with you?” Silo accused.

“Look at her, Rick,” the recovered sheriff said. George had just gotten back from Frank’s trailer with tear streaks down her face. Lydia couldn’t imagine what her night had been like. “She’s not a part of anything. She’s as much his victim as you are.”

“With Jane in my life, I will never harm another human being,” Frank tried to argue, but no one believed him. 

“Take me with you, Frank,” Gideon began. “Just you and me.”

“And my Jane?” It wasn’t a question. With all the town’s kids at his disposal, it was a demand. And Jane looked thrilled to throw herself at him.

“You’ll take me to where the kids are?”

“Happily. I couldn’t have that on my conscience,” he joked.

Lydia’s stomach flipped, but she was immensely relieved. What Gideon was about to do was insanely dangerous, but if they got those kids back, she did her job. She’d talked to him, gotten him to comply. And she’d been terrified for a moment that he was going to insist she come along. With his agreement, she was done with this heartless, tiresome act.

She stepped away from the group as Frank clarified his terms, wanting to collapse somewhere private, but was overcome by dread when he called her name.

She shivered as she flipped around, putting her unimpressed face back on. “Mhm?”

“I look forward to seeing you again.”

It was a sickening thought. She had no clue what he could possibly mean by it. But she couldn’t worry herself about anything else at the moment.

She smirked. “You better hope you’re that lucky.”

She didn’t make eye contact with anyone as she stormed away. Every interaction demanded something from her and after today, she had nothing left to give.

She got around the black SUV so that no one would be able to see her and promptly fell against the door, clutching her stomach. She just wanted to be able to take a breath that felt like enough. Smell something that wasn’t the dry dust coating her nose.

She thought she’d give herself a second to recover, then compose herself and reemerge, but as soon as he could sneak away, Spencer went after her.

He hesitated to say anything for a moment, seeing her so shaken. He didn’t want to startle her and make it worse, but he needed to speak to her.

“Hey,” he breathed.

Lydia glanced around him for others, then launched herself into his chest. And it was like her lungs cleared, just taking in the feel of him. Her breaths were shaky, but they weren’t so shallow anymore.

“Hi,” she replied. “Sorry, I just… that was weird.”

He was surprised by her sudden reaction, but pulled himself back to his senses and wrapped his arms around her back, one of his hands gently stroking her hair. “It’s okay. Are you… Is everything alright?”

“So much better now,” she mumbled into his chest. “We’re gonna do something fun together when we get back to DC, okay?”

“Of course.”

She leaned back to look at him, not dropping her arms from his waist. “Someone’s going to check on us if we stay here any longer.”

He nodded and slowly let his hands slip to his sides. “I, uh… I was so scared when I saw you in the window. No one said anything about you talking to Frank one on one and the deputies had guns trained on you. It was a lot.”

“It was a lot for me too,” she admitted. “He’s terrifying. He was convinced I was a psychopath-”

“What? Lydia, you’re not a psychopath!”

“It feels like it sometimes,” she grumbled. “He had a head, just sitting in a bag and I didn’t even flinch, Spence! I was just trying to do what Gideon told me, but that’s not human, is it?”

He sighed. “This job can desensitize us to things like that. But it doesn’t make you less human. I mean, now that you’re away from him, you understand how horrific he is.”

“I don’t think there’s a word to describe the things he’s done. And if there is, I don’t want to know it,” she added. “I just wanna go home.”

“Soon,” he promised. Then, he stepped away. “I’m gonna head back now. Take as long as you need.”

She nodded watching him go, before taking out her phone. In the time she’d been with Frank, her sister had called her seven times. It was unusual for Beck to be so persistent. There were a few texts, as well:

_ Beck: Call me. _

_ Beck: Lydia. _

_ Beck: As soon as you get this, please call. _

_ Beck: NOW LYDIA! _

_ What the hell…? _

Lydia clicked on her sister's contact and put the phone up to her ear.

Beck answered after a single ring. “ _ Oh my god. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call- _ ”

Automatically, something stood out to Lydia. Beck didn’t sound mad at her.  _ At all _ . In fact, she sounded like she wanted to cry.

“I’ve been working,” she explained. “Is everything alright?”

“ _ You need to come home, Lydia. Mom- Sonia’s had a stroke. _ ”

_ Oh god. She might actually puke from stress at this point.  _ “What happened?!” she cried, already searching for Hotch. “Did you get her to a hospital?”

“ _ Yes, yes. They did a CT scan. They say her chances of surviving are high and will be even better once they dissolve the blood clot. But, oh god, Lydia it was so scary. She started having a seizure and I didn’t know what to do- _ ”

“It’s okay… She’s in the hospital now. You did everything you could.”

“ _ You have to come home, Lydia. Tonight. _ ”

“I’ll catch a flight as soon as possible-”

“ _ I have Katie and Adam with me. Please, get here now. I need you. She’s going to be in the hospital for at least the night and I don’t know what to do with them. They don’t understand what’s going on. Katie started crying when the EMTs got there and she’s been stressed ever since. And Adam is bouncing off the walls of the waiting room like a maniac. _ ”

Lydia couldn’t even imagine how freaked out Beck was. Katie and Adam were twins that Sonia had been fostering since Lydia left for college. They were seven now.

Finally, she caught a glimpse of Hotch and made a break for him. “Beck, I’m going to be there as soon as I possibly can. I promise you. But I have to go now and figure this out, okay? Just stay there, text me any updates, and I’ll call once I have a flight.”

“ _ Okay. Please hurry. I love you. _ ”

“Love you,” Lydia agreed before hanging up and reaching Hotch. He was talking to the sheriff, still wrapped in her shock blanket. They both looked startled to see her running at them, but she didn’t let them say anything. “Hotch! My foster mom just had a stroke. I  _ need  _ to go home. Is there-”

He was automatically understanding, trying to problem solve with her. “That’s fine. Go. Sheriff, can one of your deputies take her to the nearest airport?”

George nodded immediately. “Stay right here,” she ordered. “I’ll discretely explain to them what’s going on.”

Lydia thanked her as she left. It took a strong woman to help others after what she’d been through.

“Do you need anything?” Hotch asked her.

She shook her head. “According to my sister, she’s okay so far. But she still has the blood clot. Hotch, it’s going to take her a few weeks to recover, at least. Someone has to be in the house, looking out for her and the other kids she’s fostering. I can try to get back to DC soon, but-”

“Take all the time you need,” he insisted. The sheriff came back with an officer in tow. “Call me once you get to the airport. When we get back to DC, you can send me a list of things you want shipped to California and I’ll grab them from your apartment, okay?”

Lydia had never felt so compelled to hug Hotch before, but she figured now was as good a time as any. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Then, she followed the deputy to his car and took off, forgetting to explain herself to anyone on the team. Or, more importantly, forgetting to explain herself to the one person on the team who deserved to hear it from her.

Spencer.


	13. Home, Again

Beck threw herself into her sister’s arms as Lydia entered the waiting room.

“Thank god. Lydia, I’m so sorry, but I’m so scared. Watching her fall apart like that, then start seizing- What would we do if we lost her? What would _ I  _ do? The system will take in Katie and Adam, but I… I’d be alone.”

Lydia pulled away to look into her sister’s cloudy eyes. “You will  _ never  _ be alone. If something actually happened to Sonia, you could come to DC with me in a heartbeat. Please don’t ever think I’d leave you alone.”

“You hate me,” Beck claimed. Her face was a blotchy mess and she didn’t make it any better be rubbing her hands over it frustratedly. She’d recently cut her hair short, which was perhaps the only thing stopping her from ripping it out. “I’ve been such an ass. I wouldn’t blame you if you left me here and went back to Virginia. I don’t have a job, I don’t have a college degree, I don’t even know how to drive a car! I’m useless!”

“You aren’t useless,” Lydia insisted, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You’re stubborn. You were angry. But you know who knows even more about anger than you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m guessing you, you menace?”

They both giggled, Rebecca hiccuping slightly through more tears.

“So, you won’t leave me to be a homeless prostitute?”

“Not this month,” Lydia joked. “What have you heard? Did they dissolve the blood clot?”

Beck nodded. “It’s gone. Now the only concern is figuring out how much damage it did.”

“Okay. Well then, one of us should stay here and wait for news and the other has to take Katie and Adam home and get them to bed. I really think you could use the rest, but I’m okay with either.”

The two twins were seated in the corner of the room. Katie was asleep across the armrest between her and her brother’s chair. Adam looked bored out of his mind, picking at his fingernails.

Beck looked back at them, then bit down on her bottom lip. “I need to make sure she’s okay. I don’t think I could fall asleep if I went home anyway.”

Lydia could understand that. She gave her sister a nod, before stepping around her and approaching the kids. “Hey Adam. Long time, no see!”

He pushed himself out of his chair quickly and wrapped his arms around Lydia’s waist. “Hi Lydie! Why didn’t you come home for Christmas this year?”

“I had to work,” she admitted, feigning disgust for her job.

“You have to see the Legos that Becky got me! I already built them all!”

“That’s so cool! You’ll  _ have  _ to show me once we get home.”

He bounced excitedly, turning around to wake up his sister. “Katie! Lydie’s here!”

The girl blinked, rubbing her face where it was previously squished against her arm. “Adam,” she grumbled. “What do you want?”

Lydia knelt down next to her seat. “Hey Katie,” she said, softly. “I’m here to take you two hooligans home.”

Katie blinked, recognizing Lydia’s voice and her silly nickname for the twins. “Lydie? Mommy didn’t say you were coming home.”

Lydia didn’t want to freak them out by making them think the stroke was a big deal, so she held up a finger to her lips and said, “Sonia doesn’t know yet. It’s a surprise.”

“Is mommy sick?” Adam asked. “Becky said she was hurt, but when I hurt my arm, I didn’t have to stay at the doctor’s this long.”

“Mommy did get hurt,” Lydia admitted. “But she’s super strong. Right now, you two have to get some sleep. In your  _ own  _ beds. Okay?”

They nodded and followed her out, saying their goodbyes to Rebecca as they passed. Lydia called a cab to meet them outside and take them back to Sonia’s house.

As they were packing in, her phone rang.  _ Spencer. Shit… _

“Spence, hey…” she began, but couldn’t for the life of her come up with anything else to say.

“ _ Lydia? Hotch told us that you had a family emergency, what happened?? Are you okay? Did you get home? _ ”

She sighed, relieved he wasn’t angry about her sudden disappearance. They’d just been talking face to face and then she was on her way to the airport. “Can we start with one questions at a time? I’m so tired.”

“ _ Yeah, yeah, _ ” he agreed, quickly. “ _ Where are you right now? _ ”

“I’m leaving a hospital in Oakland, California, on my way to my foster mom, Sonia’s, house.”

“ _ Why were you at the hospital? _ ”

“Sonia had a stroke.”

“ _ That’s awful. I’m sorry. What kind of stroke? _ ”

“Uh… I’m not sure? I didn’t speak to any of the doctors directly.”

“ _ Do you know if she had a hemorrhage or-? _ ”

“No. No, it was a blot clot.”

“ _ That’s good! _ ” he said immediately. “ _ The chances of surviving a ischemic stroke are higher than a hemorrhagic stroke. There’s also a higher likelihood of a full recovery. _ ”

She smiled. “Thanks, Spence. How did the case go?”

“ _ We found and recovered all the kids, but Jane and Frank disappeared. _ ”

“Oh no…” she fretted. “I’m so sorry.”

“ _ What are you talking about? You weren’t even in Nevada when it happened. _ ”

“But I was… I told him we could negotiate for Jane and-”

“ _ You  _ saw  _ her, _ ” Spencer reasoned. “ _ She was throwing herself at him. Frank would have gotten away either way and Jane would have followed him. You helped us get those kids back. _ ”

“When did you become so good at cheering me up?” she teased. He didn’t reply, so she kept going. “Spencer, I should go. I’m almost at Sonia's house. Talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“ _ Yeah, of course. Tomorrow. _ ”

~ ~ ~

“Lydia? What are you doing here?” Sonia demanded as Lydia walked into her room the next morning.

“What are you doing in a hospital bed?” she fired back. “You went and scared the hell out of us!”

“Honey, I’m old. It happens.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Not old enough. You’re like… one of the least likely people to get a stroke. You’re 50, you’re a woman, you’re Asain… do you have any blood pressure problems I don’t know about?”

“Apparently I have blood pressure problems that _ I  _ don’t even know about,” she chuckled, trying not to focus on how bad that could be. “Since when do you know so much about stroke statistics?”

Lydia was perfectly ready to tell her that she’d done a bunch of research at the airport, but it was a lie. Spencer had been sending her little tidbits of information all day. Some to try to cheer her up, others to help prepare her for how Sonia’s recovery might go. As she thought about those texts, a smile pulled at her lips and Sonia was on her in an instant.

“What’s that? That smile. You just got all blushy on me, what happened?”

“I work with profilers and somehow you’re already onto my little secret, hm?” She rubbed her forehead. “You should probably go work for my team if you’re going to be so observational.”

“You should probably stop being so obvious,” she argued. “You’ve got a crush written all over you. Did he tell you about the stroke statistics?”

“His name is Spencer, he texted them to me to make me feel better, and I’m not crushing on him.”

“Oh please!” she cried. “Your cheeks are bright red! I know a crush when I see one. Tell me about this Spencer. Where did you meet him?”

“We work together. And I’m not lying, I’m not crushing on Spencer… because we’ve been dating for almost a year now.”

“You what?!” she exclaimed. “Lydia, you have to tell me these things! Almost a year?”

“Yeah. It started last year in April.”

“Why would you hide this from me? Look at you! You’re so happy!”

Lydia bit her tongue in contemplation.  _ Why  _ hadn’t  _ she told her family? _ “Because I’ve been keeping it a secret anyway. None of the team knows we’re together. We never agreed that we wouldn’t tell our families, but… I don’t know, I guess I got so caught up in the lie that I didn’t even think about telling you guys.”

“Why are you hiding?” Sonia asked.

“Our work.” Lydia shrugged. “When we went on our first date, we didn’t want the whole team to be invested in a relationship that might not last. We didn’t want things to get weird. But now, it feels wrong, you know? Our boss wouldn’t be happy if he found out that we’ve been lying to him all this time. Spencer’s an agent, so in-office relationships are frowned upon for him.”

Lydia’s phone buzzed in her hand and instinctively, she looked down at it.

“Did he just text you?” Sonia teased.

Lydia glared back. “Fucking profilers.”

~ ~ ~

“Katie! Adam!” Lydia called as she shuffled upstairs.

“Hold on!” Katie’s muffled squealing came from the twin’s room.

Lydia smiled at what she could only imagine to be wild shenanigans going on behind that door. But, she turned and walked farther down the hall, opening up the door to Sonia’s room.

She’d been let go from the hospital after about a week, and had been recovering quickly. Lydia was glad to see her sitting up in bed stretching her arms out in front of her. Her left arm was weak and shook dramatically, but it was an improvement.

“Good morning, Sonia,” she greeted, walking over to the side of her bed. “Make sure to do your leg stretches as well today. I know they’re uncomfortable, but if you don’t build up that strength again, you’re going to end up with only one working leg. I want you to think about how frustrating that would be.”

She dropped her head back. “You’re right. That would be awful. Then I’d look like you.”

“Very funny,” Lydia deadpanned. “But my leg works fine, thank you. At this point, I’d say better than yours. But nevermind that, I won’t be here and neither will the car. If something happens, Beck will handle it and I’ll be back before your physical therapy appointment, okay?”

Lydia leaned down and gave her foster mother a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m ready, Lydie!” Adam shouted as he burst into the room. His backpack hung loosely from his shoulders, seeing as there probably wasn’t more in it than a folder.

“Is Katie ready?” she asked.

“No. Katie’s tying her shoes.”

“Oh, well then she’s almost ready. Let’s start heading down, shall we?”

He nodded, eagerly. “Bye, Mommy!” he said, before scurrying downstairs.

“Bye, Sonia,” Lydia followed suit, closing the door behind her as she left. “Beck?”

Her sister popped her head out of the bathroom, only half her makeup done, looking thoroughly unamused. “Must you be so loud?”

“Make sure Sonia gets up soon,” she ordered. “I won’t have my phone with me, so if something happens, call the doctor.”

“Won’t have your phone…?” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you not coming back after dropping the twin’s off?”

“No. I thought Sonia told you.”

“Told me what?”

“I’m ready!” Katie cried, rushing down the stairs to meet her brother.

“Head out to the car, little hooligans!” Lydia instructed. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Where are you going?” Beck tried again.

Lydia sighed. “I’m visiting Dad today.”

~ ~ ~

Not that visiting a prison was ever a pleasant experience, but Lydia was comforted to find the place exactly the same. She had enough anxiety going in as is, but trying to navigate new rules or requirements would have made it ten times worse. Her dad didn’t even seem to notice her walk into the room, sitting alone at a table, staring intently at a wall.

Lydia cleared her throat. “Um, hey Dad.”

He blinked at her for a moment, before pulling her into a hug. “Lydia! Look at you! You’ve changed so much, sweetheart!”

She shrunk away from him, slightly as he spoke, both because the guards would yell at them if they were in contact for too long and because it had been so long. It was just weird.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “It’s been a crazy two years.”

“I hear,” he said, the two of them sitting across from one another. “Rebecca tells me that you work for the FBI full-time now.”

“Not exactly. I’m contracted out by one of their teams. Sometimes I’m home for a few weeks, other times we solve one case and fly straight to the next. It isn’t exactly 9 to 5.”

“I’m really proud of you.” He smiled and Lydia’s lip twitched as well. “I was shocked to hear you were coming. Rebecca says you very rarely visit.”

“I’m not in California for a visit,” she admitted. “Sonia had a stroke, so I’ve taken some time off work to look out for her and the other kids in her care.”

Her dad had warmed up to Sonia over the years, seeing as she had to escort Lydia and Beck to the prison when they were still minors. He looked genuinely sad to hear the news. “That’s terrible. Tell her I hope she gets well soon.”

“I will. It was pretty mild it seems. She’s regaining strength quickly.”

They didn’t have the time for this small talk. Her father knew that. But Lydia almost hoped that they could keep the conversation going. As if he wasn’t an inmate in a prison. As if they weren’t being watched carefully. As if she didn’t have mixed feelings about speaking to him.

“So, Lydia, why did you come?”

Lydia blinked, pushing up her glasses habitually. “What do you mean? I haven’t seen you for two years…”

“I know,” he chuckled. “But if you wanted to come say hi to me, you’d do it when you were visiting home. Not when you’re busy taking care of a whole family.”

“Well… your sentence is almost done. Seven years… And I was talking to Sonia about it and she asked when the last time I saw you was… I felt bad.” She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. Because he knew that wasn’t it. “I haven’t really… told anyone in DC that my dad’s in prison. And with this new job, I  _ talk  _ to serial killers. I learn a lot about them, get into their heads. And in the end, we always put them away. And now I see prison in this whole different light and I think I needed to prove to myself that you… you aren’t one of the bad guys.”

“Okay, so… how do I prove I’m not a bad guy?” he asked.

“You don’t. You just-” Lydia’s eyes started to burn and she stopped herself from getting emotional. “I wanted to see you. That’s all. Recently, it feels like I can’t remember much about anyone in the family.”

“Is this about your mom?”

“I don’t know what this is about,” she rambled. “I just… I was finally starting to be okay in college and then, the whole Jenna thing happened and I was an angry monster again. And when I realized I had settled down, I was a different person. I worked for the FBI for crying out loud! And I’m looking at the people around me, and they look different, too, but I can’t figure out if it’s them who’ve changed or just my view of them. And I’ve always-”

She was tearing up again. Lydia gritted her teeth, feeling frustrated. She came here to check up on him, not have a meltdown. But if she shut down, he would keep bugging her about it, so might as well keep going.

“I’ve always been so mad at you,” she said, gnashing her teeth like an animal. “And then I’m looking through a serial killer's house and all I can think is, ‘At least my dad didn’t become  _ this _ ’. And I feel guilty that I’ve been so hard on you for seven years. So, I came here because I needed to prove to myself that this face belongs to my dad and not a bad guy.”

“Could it be both?”

Lydia glared at him, but didn’t have anything to say. She didn’t need the ambiguous question right now.

“Lydia, I know what I did was stupid and it hurt people. And all the excuses I made for it at the time don’t justify my actions. I wasn’t wrongfully accused and I’m not trying to pretend I was.”

“I don’t want to have an argument with you,” she grumbled. “I want to look at you with my new profiling eyes and determine whether it’s worth rebuilding a relationship with you when you get out.”

That shut him up. Lydia’s face burned in shame, but there was no taking it back. They sat there in silence for what felt like years. She didn’t know what there was to say. It had been on her mind for months now that his release was approaching. She’d considered Beck to be her only family for almost 7 years. Her father was a distant memory. But maybe when his time was up… maybe it’d be nice to have a dad again. But she had sworn at 16 never to forgive him.

“Did you decide?” he asked, his voice grim.

Why did  _ she  _ have to decide? Why couldn’t someone tell her that she was going to have to learn to live with or without him and be done with it? Why did it have to be her to walk away or make the effort. Shouldn’t family come naturally?

But for now, at least, she knew what she wanted.

“I want my family back. I don’t want to leave California one day and never have a reason to come back… I want to know my mom… And maybe, just maybe, I want to remember my dad, too. Because somewhere in the far recesses of my mind, he was a cool dude.”

“I’m sorry that I ever left you,” he said.

Finally, Lydia felt a sense of relief. She stood up. “I need to go, Dad. Luckily, the next time I see you, you probably won’t be behind bars.” And then, she opened up her arms, welcoming him in for a hug.

For the past seven years, she’d never been the one to initiate a hug with her father, but it felt like it was time. Her stubbornness had kept her from too much. She’d missed out on so many opportunities to be happy all because she was hinged on being in complete control of the image of herself that other’s saw. And she hadn’t felt like she’d had a parental figure in a long time.

He accepted quickly. “Go be an amazing bad-guy-catcher,” he teased.

“I will,” she replied with a smile. “Keep being a neutral guy, alright?”

As she headed for the door, he said, “Lydia? One more thing…”

She raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Happy birthday.”

He remembered. She didn’t expect him to, for some reason. She didn’t really expect him to know the exact date.

“I love you,” she told him, but didn’t wait around to hear his response. She didn’t plan on spilling any tears today.

~ ~ ~

“You’re hunched over your computer like Quasimodo,” Rebecca joked as she dropped a bowl of ice cream next to her sister.

Poor Lydia was so wrapped up in her paper, she didn’t even notice the gift, ignoring the dessert completely. “I need Spencer,” she admitted. “He’d be able to give me more accurate information than these pathetic websites.”

“Why don’t you call him?” Sonia offered from across the table.

“He told me this morning that he was leaving for a case. Really bad one, too. He doesn’t need the distraction.”

Beck rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re actually going to get a PhD for this guy.”

“I’m not getting this for Spencer,” she tried to argue. “But I mean, look at me! I’m set to graduate in the spring. Have you ever seen someone get a doctorate in 2 years? Spencer did that for me. I could become a college professor in about a year, all thanks to him. At 23 years old.”

“Don’t act like you’re not a genius all by yourself,” Beck grumbled. “Just because he’s super charismatic-” Lydia laughed out loud when she said that “-does not mean that he got you your PhD.”

“I’m not saying that!” she tried to argue. “Think about how much money I’ve saved! I mean, I was terrified when I took that internship at the BAU that once it was up, I’d be stuck. With this, I have so many options open that I-”

She paused, noticing her phone screen light up with Hotch’s name. Rebecca and Sonia gave her funny looks, but she held up a finger.

“My boss is calling me. Strange.”

“If he says you have to go back to Virginia, do it. You’ve taken enough to time off as it is,” Sonia instructed, but Lydia just rolled her eyes.

“Hey, Hotch,” she answered. “What’s up?”

“ _ Lydia, I’m going to need your help with something… _ ”

“That’s fine. Is it case related?”

“ _ No it’s… _ ” He sounded exhausted and Lydia wondered where he could be. It was 9 in California, so unless he was on the west coast, it was late. “ _ Lydia, Reid has been taken captive by an unsub _ .”

Her heart stopped. Seeing her family's confused faces across from her, she jumped up from the table and rushed out of the room.

“What? I- What are you… How bad of an unsub?” she sputtered.

“ _ He’s sending us a live feed of it. As of right now, Reid’s forehead has a large gash in it and one of his feet is mangled. We’re doing everything we can to find him. _ ”

“Is there something I can do?” Her breathing was labored and her chest, constricting. This was all wrong. Spencer had to be okay. He needed to be…

“ _ Lydia, Spencer’s strong. He’ll keep fighting until we can get to him. But I have a feeling when he gets out, he’s going to want to see your face _ .”

She was far too stressed to even consider what he was implying. “You want me to- I’m not sure if I can-”

“ _ Two days. That’s all. I’ll get you a ticket to Georgia as soon as possible. He’ll need your support. Can you be here? _ ”

Leaving suddenly, once again. But Spencer might need her. Hotch was certain he would. And after news like that… she’d need to see him for herself to even imagine that he was going to be okay.

“I’ll pack my things now. Send me that plane ticket and the case file. I need to know what to expect when I get there.”

“ _ I’ll let you know if anything changes, _ ” he assured her. “ _ Thank you. _ ”

She heard him hang up the phone, but didn’t move it away from her ear. All she could hear was her heartbeat in her ears, as if it was trying to break out. She blinked a couple of times and turned to see that her sister had followed her into the next room, eyes wide.

A tear slipped down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away. “I need to go,” she told Beck and ran to her room to gather some things.


	14. When You Left

“Lydia,” Hotch greeted as she rushed into the waiting room of a hospital.

“What do you know about his condition?” she demanded.

Hotch nodded for her to follow him farther back into the hospital. “He’s got a mild concussion from where the unsub knocked him out and his left foot is broken. Other than that, his injuries are purely psychological. I got the doctors to allow you to stay here for the night and I ordered the others to go to their hotel rooms and sleep. You should be able to stay with him for the next few hours.”

“Does the team know I’m here?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d want me to tell them the reason I called you.”

“And what is that reason?” she asked, slowing so that they could speak face to face.

Hotch looked at her sternly. “I know you’re a private person,” he began, “but I hope you don’t make it into a habit of keeping secrets from me, Lydia.”

Had Spencer told him? But he wouldn’t have. Or, if he did, he wouldn’t have blamed her for the secret. So perhaps, Hotch had just assumed. She’d expected that. “If there’s a secret here, it belongs to Spencer, not me.”

Upon hearing that, Hotch’s hostile stance calmed. “I can imagine it does. And I’d like to speak to him about it, but for right now, he needs to see you.”

She nodded. Now really wasn’t the time. “Take me to him.”

Hotch didn’t follow her in, just pointed to the room where he was located.

Spencer had a bandage on the left side of his head and a boot around his left foot. His eyes looked dark and sunken, his hair a matted mess. It was a version of him she’d never seen before. One she never thought she would see.

“Lydia!” Spencer cried as she opened the door. He looked so overwhelmed. She wished more than anything she could take him away from all this. “What are you doing here?” 

“Hotch called me.” Lydia did all she could to hide the tears forming in her eyes and smile at him. “I think he’s onto us.”

Spencer didn’t respond to her tease. He glanced outside, likely noticing Hotch’s lingering presence. He was currently pulling out his phone, facing away from the couple.

“Looks like for the next little while we’ll be limping buddies!” She tried again to make him smile. At the very least, acknowledge that she was there.

Something very traumatic happened to Spencer. She could have known that without coming all this way. But Hotch, for some reason, thought her being there would help. And she felt helpless. He wasn’t okay. He was barely looking at her. Barely talking.

So, she pulled up one of the chairs, sat down next to him, and held his hand. Because all she could think to do was let him figure this out on his own. It’s what he was best at.

They were silent for most of the night. Eventually, Hotch disappeared, likely going to get some sleep himself before the team had to fly home.

Spencer spilled a few tears, but stayed quiet. Lydia would hum quietly beside him. She thought he might eventually fall asleep, but he didn’t. His mind was far away, too busy to sleep.

It wasn’t until morning was approaching and Lydia knew she had to go before the others got there, that he spoke.

“I shot him, Lydia.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I hate to even pull my gun out, and yet, I shot him.”

“And it’s a good thing you did,” she said. “Tobias was having you dig your own grave-”

“ _ No, _ ” he growled, startling Lydia. “Tobias was a good kid. He saved my life.”

“But he was dangerous.”

Her attempts to reassure him did the opposite. “It wasn’t him! It was his father. He didn’t deserve to die. And I killed him.”

Lydia blinked. Spencer had never seemed irrational to her. He might be upset sometimes, but he never got so angry he was blindsided. “Spence, where is this coming from?”

“I just would have thought that you, of all people, would have more respect for the mentally ill.”

_ The way he said it felt like he had embedded a dagger in her chest. _

“Me of all…?”

“Yes! With everything that happened to your mom and then you! Tobias was a victim! Just like your mother. How would you feel if you found out I had shot your mother?”

_ He was twisting it. _

“And I don’t know what was up with your dad, but no stable person loses custody over their kids, so there’s-”

“What the _ hell? _ ” Lydia stood up quickly. “What has gotten into you?”

“Oh, did I strike a nerve, Lydia? Really?” He sat up, his IV pulling tightly against his arm. “You know, maybe if you stopped judging other people for their problems, you’d see you have a few of your own.”

She blinked, her face burning in shame and anger. No one had ever thrown her family back in her face so cruelly. Spencer was not like this… right?

“Why is this about me?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly as she tried to stop the burning in her nose and behind her eyes.

“You always show up too late, you know that? I needed you and now that I’m in a hospital bed, you finally show. Sonia had to have a stroke for you to visit your family. And you think  _ Tobias  _ deserved to die for his illness?”

It was all too much. Maybe she’d been wrong about Spencer. All this time, she never would have thought he had this in him.

“I’m leaving, Spencer.” She picked up her bag and threw it over her shoulder. “If you have anything else to add to your tirade, you can call me, okay?”

“Gotta leave before you hit someone you care about, hm?” he accused. “Gotta go be sad about your life and then not tell anyone about it, so that they think you’re normal?”

“Goodbye, Spencer,” she hissed.

Tears ran down her cheeks the minute she got out of the hospital, and for once, she paid no mind to them. Let other people see her cry. She didn’t need their good opinion anyway.

Maybe it was the look in his eyes as he said it, but out of all his accusations, only one stuck with her. _ I needed you and now that I’m in a hospital bed, you finally show. _ Something about it tormented her.

He had needed her. Maybe for longer than she thought. She’d been so focused on Sonia, she barely responded to him. And even before that, she’d up and left for California without even giving him a wave from across the lot.

Did she deserve his hatred for that?

~ ~ ~

Lydia didn’t respond to Hotch when he texted her the next morning. She didn’t call him back when he left her a voicemail saying that they were getting on the jet back to DC. She didn’t thank him for the flight back to California.

When Sonia and Beck asked if Spencer was alright, she replied with ‘he’s fine’ and went to bed. She didn’t need their sympathy. Maybe she didn’t want it after all that he had said to her.

And the following day, she said nothing about it, jumping right back into her old routine of taking the twins to school and doing her schoolwork.

After about a month, Sonia was cleared to drive again. She wouldn’t be back at her full health for a while, but her body was stronger than it had been in a while. The only real concern was ensuring that she kept track of her blood pressure so that she didn’t cause another stroke. And as soon as she got this news, she sent Lydia back to Virginia, insisting that she get her life back.

Lydia didn’t have the heart to tell her that at the moment, she never wanted to step into the BAU ever again. Almost a full year she spent with Spencer. Even more time bonding with the team as a whole. And when they were dating, he kept insisting that they hide their relationship, because he was scared she would break his heart.

She’d never even considered that he was capable of this. He hadn’t talked to her the entire month. Didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t apologize. She had to wonder if perhaps it really was her fault. Maybe he was waiting for an apology from her. But if she was anything, she was stubborn. She’d entrusted so much of her family history to him and he threw it back in her face like trash. Like  _ she  _ was trash. That wasn’t right. Good people don’t do that, no matter how badly you messed up.

Hotch and Gideon both called her. Sometimes asking when she thought she’d be back to work on a case, other times checking in to see if she was doing alright. She didn’t bother answering them. She didn’t even tell them she was back in the city.

She tried to focus on her work, but even in her final semester, there wasn’t enough to do to keep the boredom away for long. A thought started to creep across her mind.  _ Sooner or later, I’ll be out of a job with the FBI. I need to go back there or find another job. _

_ Find another… _ There was no job that could ever be like the FBI. But as the thought crossed her mind, she realized that it wouldn’t be too hard for her to find work. She was still speaking to her professor about a job at the college. Suddenly, a lot of things were looking good about it.

She’d just spent a lot of time speaking to her father about rebuilding their relationship and learning more about her mother. As a teacher, she’d never miss a holiday with her family again. Rebecca wouldn’t hate her for eternity and Katie and Adam wouldn’t grow up without her. If Sonia’s condition got worse, she wouldn’t feel so far away.

With a heavy heart, she picked up her phone, calling up Hotch’s number. She hoped more than anything that he wouldn’t pick up. Hoped he was on a case, was busy, his phone had died, anything.

“ _ Lydia? _ ” His voice on the other side made her heart rate speed up unhelpfully. She wanted to think she didn’t miss the job, but she did. “ _ How are you? We haven’t heard from you in a while _ .”

“Agent Hotchner,” she began, formally. “I’m officially resigning from the BAU as a forensic contractor. I’ll be in the office tomorrow night well after work hours to pick up my things and leave my badge. If there is anything you need or want me to do while there, please let me know before then. Otherwise, I’d really rather not have an encounter with any of the team members.”

“ _ What? I- Lydia- _ ”

“I thank you for this job and opportunity, Agent. It is one I’ll never forget.”

And then she hung up.

~ ~ ~

When the doors of the elevator opened, Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. The bullpen was dark and quiet. Hotch hadn’t told anyone she was coming, thank god.

Every step screamed at her to stop and reconsider, but then she remembered Reid screaming at her in her mind and a white, hot rage filled her again. She didn’t need this job. She didn’t need these friends. What she needed was to feel safe in a work environment.

She entered Hotch’s office (empty, surprisingly) and dropped her badge on his desk. Then, she walked down to her desk, eyes glued to the floor so as to not see anyone’s name plates or paperweights that might make her miss them. She brought in a box big enough to carry the few things on her desk: a photo of her and Beck, her name plate, some pens and pencils, and any documents that she needed to have with her in the future.

As she reached underneath her desk for her go bag, the lights flickered on above her and Hotch’s voice drifted from the doors of the office.

“Is there no way I can get you to reconsider?”

Lydia didn’t bother turning to look at him, throwing her bag over her shoulder and making sure that there was nothing left for her in the drawers of her desk. “I told you I didn’t want to speak to any of the team. That includes you.”

“What is it, Lydia?” he demanded, his voice growing closer as he approached. “Has something happened to make you feel unwelcome?”

“You’re the profiler,” she grumbled, picking up her cardboard box and finding herself face to face with her old unit chief. “Agent Hotchner-”

“ _ Hotch _ , Lydia. Just Hotch.”

She swallowed, not wanting to use the old nickname and give off the impression that she could be convinced to stay. “I loved working for you. But I just… I need to learn when things are unhealthy for me. I did the FBI thing. Now I need to move on.”

His eyes landed on her belongings, looking at how little she had to pack up after working for them for a year and a half. “Keep in touch, yeah?”

Lydia shrugged, brushing him off. “You’ll probably see me working as a waitress or bartender somewhere nearby.” He gave her a stern look, prompting her to take back her snarky response. “Seriously, don’t worry. I can manage. I always have.”

“What do you want me to tell the others?” he asked, pointing to her now freshly clean desk.

“Whatever you want. Tell them I quit. Tell them you fired me… or you know, whatever you do to stop seeing a private contractor. Tell them I died in a fiery plane crash.” Finally, she stepped around him and marched off. “They won’t remember me in two months anyway.”

She didn’t think he’d be able to hear her comment, but as she was approaching the doors into the BAU lobby, he called out to her.

“Hey, Lydia?”

“Mhm?”

“That’s how you got this job,” he insisted. “You’re pretty unforgettable.”

She shook her head and let the door slam shut behind her.

~ ~ ~

Morgan was the first person to notice the next morning. He had his head propped up with one of his fists, distractedly checking his email and his eyes wandered to Lydia’s desk. His first thought was: _ I hope she’s doing okay… _

_ She’s been in California a long time… _

_ Doesn’t her picture frame normally sit there… _

_ Wait, where’s all her stuff? _

It was deeply startling to see that her desk was clean as a whistle. His eyes wandered around the room, to see if anyone else had noticed or if maybe her stuff had been moved elsewhere, but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.

He wondered if he should ask the others. Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention and someone had put everything in her drawers to protect them while she was gone. Silently, he stood up, approaching the desk and opening one of the drawers. It was clean. He opened another. Also empty.

Emily caught his eye, her eyebrow raised as if to ask what he was doing, but he simply held up a finger and walked up to the catwalk to see Hotch.

He knocked softly on the doorframe before walking in.

“Hey, Hotch. I just noticed that Lydia’s desk has been cleared out. Did you move it for some reason, or…?”

Hotch had to clear his throat before answering. “Ambers came by last night to gather her things and make her official resignation from the BAU.”

“She _ what? _ ” he demanded. “Hotch, you weren’t going to tell us that she resigned? What happened?”

“I wasn’t aware she was planning on it,” he admitted. “I spoke to her about it and she seemed pretty adamant that she wanted to be somewhere else.”

“Is she going back to California?”

“It didn’t sound like it. But that’s something you need to ask her.”

“Yeah, I will,” he snapped.

Stepping outside, Emily was already halfway up the catwalk to see what was going on. Morgan didn’t say anything, just dialed Lydia’s number and stood there, clearly upset.

“ _ Hi, this is Lydia Ambers. Sorry that I missed you, but if it’s important, leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks! _ ”

“What the hell, Lydia? You disappear in the middle of a case for a month, you resign without warning, and now you’re not answering our calls? What happened to you, kiddo? I know you wouldn’t just drop off the face of the earth willingly… Call me back.”

As he returned his phone to his pocket, Emily waved a hand in front of him. “Hey, what’s going on? Lydia resigned?”

He nodded. “Hotch just told me. Cleaned out her desk last night when no one was here. Something’s not right about this picture.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Emily mumbled. “She was so friendly. Has she ever disappeared like this before?”

“No. Lydia’s been working with us for so long now. She loved her job. Something happened. Something big.”

Spencer tried his best not to look like he was eavesdropping, but sat perfectly still so that he could hear as much of what Morgan and Emily were saying as possible. Lydia had  _ resigned _ . She really had just left the BAU.

He knew he had acted stupid. So… so stupid. He went through these awful mood swings now, sometimes missing her so much he couldn’t stop his tears. Other times he was angry at her for leaving so soon… but maybe that was just his own stubbornness.

He never could convince himself to call her. To say anything to her, really. There weren’t words to express what he was going through right now. Not ones that she would accept, anyway.

He considered himself a murderer. A drug addict. He didn’t deserve her love even if he could gain it back.

Perhaps her leaving was good. He didn’t have to anxiously anticipate facing her again. But she didn’t deserve to lose the life she spent the last year making for herself because he couldn’t stop himself from being an asshole.

How long could this “I’m just having a hard time recovering” act go on for?

~ ~ ~

Not too long, it seemed.

Reid could feel Prentiss’s eyes on him for the next few days, trying to gauge his reaction to the news that Lydia was gone. Garcia too, but he didn’t see her around as often Emily.

As they set out for their next case, he tried to separate himself from her as best he could, but she seemed to want to do the opposite. And with all the stress of escaping her, he started making others suspicious.

First, he snapped at her on the jet, causing Hotch to insist they work together. Then, the station was loud, as the whole city was undergoing major constructional changes. Mapping out the area only kept him busy for so long and he found himself staring at it in order to prevent the others from bothering him. And then, of course, Gideon had to send him to a homeless shelter with-- you guessed it-- Emily.

He did his best to act natural, but every glance, comment, and movement from her was rubbing him the wrong way.

They located Angie, one of the administrators of the homeless shelter, as she handed out food. As she explained to them, how many people were tossed onto the streets as the construction workers tore down apartment buildings and homes, he started getting antsy. Impatient. This was supposed to be a quick interview.

Emily had started to compliment the woman when he lost his temper. “Well, thank god there are people like you who take the time-”

“Do you have a list of everyone who comes through here?”

Both the women looked startled at his interruption, but Angie was quick to comply. “Uh, we have a sign-in sheet, but we don’t force anyone to sign if they don’t want to. Some who do don’t even use their real names. ‘Elvis’ eats here a lot.”

“We would appreciate any lists you have,” Emily informed her.

“Why?”

“Have you noticed anyone who acts unusually aggressive towards the other residents?” he asked, ignoring her question, but she didn’t let up.

“What’s this about?”

“A series of murders in the area,” he responded quickly. “The perpetrator may be a homeless man. Maybe someone who stays here. He may even be in this room as we speak.”

Emily’s head snapped towards him. “Reid!” she hissed.

“Have you noticed anyone who acts paranoid or displays explosive, unprovoked bursts of violence, more than just pushing and shoving-- I mean, someone who really tries to harm others.”

Angie looked extremely overwhelmed. “There are territorial fights over food and places to sleep. The nurse treats people for minor injuries all the time, but no one’s seriously hurt.”

“If anyone does come to mind, give us a call. Thank you.” He handed her his business card, then left, not checking for Emily, who apparently, didn’t follow him.

He stood outside for a moment, watching the homeless pass to get inside. He shouldn’t have done that. It was rude. But he felt like crawling out of his own skin, just being on this case.

Not that he couldn’t have assumed she’d be angry, but the force with which Emily threw open the door as she left the shelter confirmed it.

“There’s a high presence of mental disorders with the homeless,” he noted, hoping to distract her from the issue.

“What the hell was that in there?”

“What?”

“‘He may even be in this room as we speak’?” she quoted. “We have nothing to support that!”

“We’re investigating a serial homicide. Should I have pretended there was no danger?”

“We just left that woman potentially afraid of every man who walks into this shelter!”

He crossed her arms. “Again, until we find this unsub, how is that a bad thing?”

Her face changed from one of confusion to one of disgust. “What is the matter with you?”

_ God damnit _ . “What do you mean, ‘what’s the matter with me’?”

“I’ve never seen you act like this.”

“Oh, really? Oh, in the months that you’ve known me, you’ve never seen me act this way?” he snarled. “Hey, no offense, Emily but you really don’t know what you’re talking about, do you?”

“Is this about Lydia?” she demanded. “About her disappearance-?”

“Don’t act like you think you know me!” he said again, his voice raising considerably. “You presumed a lot about me from the start and then you went and told Hotch things you didn’t understand.”

“Told Hotch-? I haven’t said anything to Hotch!”

“Oh yeah? Really, so his wish to discuss my relationship with another member formerly on this team was just out of curiosity? You didn’t perhaps tell the whole Bureau that Spencer had a schoolgirl crush on his friend just to laugh at me?”

“I never told anyone-”

“Whatever,” he interrupted once more. “She’s gone. And frankly, the Bureau didn’t need to waste the money on her anyway.”

  
  



	15. Help

Another few weeks of silence. Lydia got a few calls from the team during the first week, but slowly they thinned out and disappeared.

She dropped herself onto the couch after her shift at a nearby coffee shop. It wasn’t the ideal job, but she needed some form of income to pay rent until she was out of school.

Her professor and her were discussing getting her teaching credentials and getting experience as a student teacher before she retired. The plan was to have her prepared by the upcoming spring semester, still 10 months away.

That was it. She was going to be a teacher. It was a fine career path, especially for someone of her age. And she had time to do something else if it truly didn’t suit her.

Lydia’s eyes grew heavy and she was just thinking about leaving her grad school work for another day, when someone knocked on her door.

Huffing, she picked herself up once more and checked the peephole. Gideon was hovering outside.

“Did Garcia give you my address?” Lydia asked bluntly, not even fully opening up the door,

“Yes.” He looked relieved to see her and Lydia wondered for a moment if Hotch had actually told the team she died. “May I come in?”

She rolled her eyes, but swung the door open, walking back to her couch. “Feel free to sit. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

“Thank you.”

There was a chair beside the couch, which he quickly took advantage of. And then he watched her, closely. He watched her close up her computer, pull her legs underneath her, and wait patiently for him to say something. He watched her for some sort of sign that she was happy, upset, or confused to see him there. But she just looked bored.

“You didn’t tell me that you were leaving,” he began, his voice soft.

Lydia shrugged. “You weren’t my boss. Hotch was.”

“That’s not why I care.” He leaned forward resting his forearms on his knees. “Did you think I was going to try to convince you to stay?”

“Were you?”

“Would you have stayed if I had?”

She looked away, shutting her eyes briefly. “I should hope I know what’s better for me than you do.”

“People love things that aren’t good for them,” he argued. “No one at the BAU  _ enjoys  _ their job. There’s… something else about it that keeps us there.”

“There’s nothing to keep me there anymore. Enough said.”

He paused again, watching her posture. It had tightened, but still she gave up nothing.

“You’re such a good actress. If I didn’t know you so well, I wouldn’t be able to tell that you were scared.”

“Scared?” she demanded, biting back a chuckle. Normally Jason frightened her with how well he did his job. But saying she was scared? No way.

“Of course.” His responses were so nonchalant, that she couldn’t bring herself to argue until she knew what had him so convinced. “Hotch told me that something happened between you and Reid. I’m sorry. I know you two were close. But I also know that the only time you back away from something is when you know you aren’t emotionally ready for it. Not because you’re afraid of anyone else, but because you are scared of yourself. You think you’re a naturally violent person, Lydia. When you and Reid had a fight, you thought you might go too far and someone would get hurt.”

“Amazing job,” she said sarcastically. “Stellar profile. Except that if I was going to quit anyway, why hold back?”

“There’s something more to it. You're not worried about those consequences. There must be other consequences. Does he have something on you?”

Did he? He knew more about her than anyone on the team. Was she actually afraid of anything she told him?

“Sure. He has my trust and I don’t have his. I thought I did, but he made it abundantly clear that I mean nothing to him. So yes... sure… I left because Reid made me feel unwelcome. And yes, I’m afraid that if I become too involved in the team again, he might threaten me or ruin my relationship with the other agents. But maybe, in the end, I quit because I realized that there might be better things out there. Better people.”

“Reid cares about you so much. You probably are the person he trusts the most on the team… That’s why I need your help.”

_ Help? Was he joking? _

Lydia laughed though she was in no way amused by the prospect. “With him? Why? Is he being an asshole to you, too? Maybe everyone on the team should consider leaving him to his own devices. You did say once that if we compared our skills to Reid, he’d run the team on his own. Why not let him?”

“Lydia, Reid’s not an asshole. He’s a genuinely good person. But he’s acting out emotionally because he feels abandoned by the team. Tell me that you can’t understand that.”

_ Shit _ . He was right about that. That sounded just like her when her father got arrested. Lashing out, driving others away, demanding justice. Maybe she was the asshole here… But there was no way she could bring herself to admit that.

“I’m not seeking out someone who’s only going to hurt me. Maybe he does need help. But I’m not his mother. I have my own life to lead.”

He sighed, audibly. Knowing him, it was probably all part of his act. Gideon taught her well to manipulate suspects. “I just came here because I thought… I wanted you to understand him a bit better.”

“Well, thanks.” Lydia stood up from her couch, headed towards the door to not-so-subtly tell him to leave. “Now I can know that he hates my guts  _ and  _ feel like an asshole for not being the first person to try and make up. Goodbye, Gideon.”

When he got up, he just stared at her for a moment, not wanting to leave on such a bad note. “Please… please talk to me soon, okay?”

Not wanting to look like he’d caused her to feel as conflicted as she did, she rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah… Sure I’ll do that,” before walking him out.

~ ~ ~

“ _ -and Beck claims she’s close to committing a murder. _ ”

“She used to find it endearing,” Lydia replied, laughing with Sonia. “Lydie and Becky. She thought the rhyming was cute.”

“ _ That’s because they always said it together. Now they run around the house yelling ‘Becky! Becky!’ and she screams ‘Don’t call me that!’ _ ” 

Lydia could hear her sister complaining from across the country. She never liked being called Becky until the twins came along. To everyone else it was Beck or Rebecca. That was how Lydia and Sonia knew she liked them. She put up with it for them.

And then, they turned eight.

“ _ She insists they’re doing it on purpose. She says she can just tell by their tone of voice that they’re mocking her. _ ”

“To be honest, who’s to say they’re not?”

Sonia chuckled. “ _Yeah, they’re kind of a lot. Why did I agree to take in twins?_ ”

“Because you’re a good person,” Lydia said.

It was true. The foster care system wasn’t kind to siblings. Especially older siblings, who struggled to get adopted. Sonia took in her and Rebecca knowing that they would be separated otherwise. And then, she was told about the twins, two toddlers, and her heart just couldn’t let them lose one another.

There was a soft knocking at Lydia’s door. She figured it was Gideon again, here to check up on her, so she decided to say her goodbyes.

“Make sure they know that their gifts are on the way! Sorry I fell so far behind!”

“ _ Take care of yourself, honey. They aren’t even worried about the gifts they were so excited to get to talk to you on the phone. _ ”

“Miss you all loads!”

As she put her phone down, there was another knock, this time, somehow, even more timid.

Standing, she peaked out the peephole and almost shrieked in surprise, throwing the door open before she could think better of it.

“Spencer…?” Lydia did a quick sweep of the hallway for anyone else. “Can I help you?”

His head was hung low, occasionally glancing up at her before dropping it again. “Yeah, I… May I come in?”

That’s what set off the alarms in her mind. His voice was a hoarse mirror of it’s usual self and the fact that he wouldn’t look at her made her think he’d been crying. Whatever caused him to show up here, it wasn’t about their relationship. This was about him.

He needed someone. And although, after everything, she wasn’t sure why he’d come here, she stepped out of the way and let him in.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

She saw him shuffle over to the couch, then made over to her kitchen to get him some water. She didn’t know what was wrong with him. She doubted he’d be so inclined to tell her. But obviously he’d been through a lot and she knew the basics of how to handle someone in this state: water, blanket, patience, distraction.

He didn’t speak as she handed the glass to him. His mouth moved as if to thank her, but if he did, it wasn’t audible. He was frightened, it seemed.

Maybe something had happened on a case. Someone had gotten hurt. Maybe it was just nightmares from the kidnapping over a month ago. She didn’t even consider the thing he might be scared of was her. Speaking to her.

“Spencer, if you need me to talk you off some ledge, I’ll do it,” she started. “I’ll stand there and hold you up before you step away from the drop willingly. But I’m not sure what to  _ say _ .”

His eyes were wet. Not full tears yet, but it terrified Lydia to know what he wanted to tell her.

“I’m- I’m not… Lydia, I’ve done-“ He fumbled desperately for the right way to say this to Lydia, but came up empty. There was no way to say this. Frustrated, he reached for his sleeve and ripped it up at high as it would go.

Lydia felt sick as she recognized what was afflicting him. There were red needle markings and bruises inside his elbow.

“Oh my god, Spencer. What is it?”

“You know that I wouldn’t have-“

“No! God no, Spencer! You don’t have to defend yourself!” she cried. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’m here to help you, not judge you. But you have to tell me what it is.”

Her fingers ghosted over the abused skin. He wanted more than anything for there to be another reason he was here. With her. He wished he’d had some other excuse to come see her. For her to hold him.

But he’s gotten himself into this whole fucking mess and there wasn’t another reason. He was here because he needed help and she was only agreeing because that’s the kind of person she was.

“Dilaudid.”

She bit down on her bottom lip.  _ Fuck. _ “Okay. And Spencer? Are you here to get help or because you need to get it off your chest? I’m glad you told me, I really am, but if you aren’t planning to stop, I think you should find comfort elsewhere.”

It felt so harsh that she regretted it the instant the words left her mouth. But it was true. If Spencer wasn’t committed to getting clean, he wouldn’t be able to. And she wasn’t going to waste her energy on someone who wasn’t trying to be better.

“I need help. I thought I could figure this out by myself, but I… I don’t know anymore. I lose my will and I feel helpless and I thought you might… I thought you might understand. I know that’s horrible to assume, but with your family history I thought-”

“You aren’t assuming anything, Spencer,” she informed him. “You’re right. I know a lot about addiction and drugs and your brain chemistry right now. So, I’m going to be completely honest with you. I will help you, no questions asked. I won’t tell anyone unless absolutely necessary. And you don’t need to apologize or explain yourself. But if I feel you stop caring about getting clean or if I find out you’re using me for sympathy, that all goes away. I can’t help someone without… determination.”

He grabbed her hand suddenly. “I promise I’m determined.  _ So  _ determined. Please… _ Please fix me. _ ”

Her heart tore to shreds. He was begging. Desperate. He truly felt alone.

But at least she was sure he’d get through this.

“You’re going to stay here for the next few days, at least,” she ordered. “The nights are going to be the most difficult right after going sober. If you can call in sick with Hotch, do that. Because the next few days are going to be hell if you don’t have any time to yourself.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll, uh… I’ll tell Hotch that I can’t come in for the next few days.”

“Good.” She sighed. “Once you’re sober, we can work through how to deal with the cravings. But for now, I want you to keep track of your symptoms and let me know what’s going on so I can help. Even if it’s just a hot flash in the middle of the night, I want you to tell me immediately.”

“Lydia, I…”

She paused her rambling, waiting for him to tell her she was overwhelming him. She felt overwhelmed herself, but then again, this was not how she expected her night to go.

“...thank you.”

Her heart missed a beat, but she pulled herself back onto track, rolling her eyes. “What did you think? I was going to send you away because you were mean to me? We aren’t children, Reid. I’m willing to-”

“I was on it then, too,” he whispered. “The dilaudid. Tobias gave it to me to help me deal with the torture. That’s why I got mad at you… It wasn’t because I thought you had abandoned me. Or because I thought you didn’t care. I was just… I knew I was messed up. That I wasn’t going to get over this. And I wanted to keep it away from you. I know that it doesn’t work like that, but I wanted you to know now that none of that anger stemmed from something you had done. It was on me. All me.”

“It wasn’t… totally your fault.” Lydia started to categorize her thoughts. What had really happened that night?

She had felt guilty for leaving him and going back to California. She was terrified after hearing he’d been taken hostage by a dangerous unsub. And the stress of leaving Sonia, if only for a few days, had her stomach in knots.

And from Spencer’s perspective, he was overcome by guilt. He’d felt indebted to Tobias, who went against his father (or the version of his father that he inhabited)’s wishes in order to save his life. And in return, Spencer had to kill him. Throw into the mix an intense craving for heroin and he wasn’t exactly in the mood for calm debate.

“I’m so sorry that I was insensitive to your feelings,” Lydia apologized. “At the time I wasn’t prepared to hear what you had to say and I reacted harshly… We’re too stubborn, you and I.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, more than said. “Either way, I can’t believe what I said to you. And I don’t deserve your forgiveness or help. I just… I couldn’t tell the team and you were the only other person I trusted with this stuff.”

“You’re already forgiven, Spencer. Don’t worry. I know what these…  _ things  _ do to people. I’ve said worse to my sister and my father and my foster mom. Believe me, you get a pass for this one.”

She smiled at him and he hesitantly returned it.

“So… I think we should start by having you grab some stuff from your place, because I wasn’t kidding. While we get you sober, I want you to stay here.”

“Okay… Yeah, let’s do that.”

“And you’re going to call Hotch?’

“Yeah. I’ll tell him I’ve got the flu.”

The trip was quick and before she knew it, Lydia was back in her own apartment. Her and Spencer spent the rest of the evening talking about the cases he worked while she was gone and what she was up to in California. Lydia was glad they could fall back into being comfortable with one another. Friendly, even.

She still avoided her conversation with her father, not sure how to bring up his imprisonment to Spencer, especially now that Spencer had his own problems.

It was growing later, the two of them having drifted off into their own minds on the couch.

“You were too good for me, Lydia,” he said out of the blue. “I couldn’t stand not feeling worthy of you anymore.”

“‘ _ We accept the love we think we deserve _ ,’” she quoted.

“That was profound,” he muttered.

“It’s Stephen Chbosky,” she explained. “ _ The Perks of Being a Wallflower. _ ”

“I don’t know it.”

She gasped loudly. “You don’t know  _ The Perks of Being a Wallflower _ ? But Reid, it’s a classic!” She held up a hand quickly. “-And I don’t want to argue about the definition of ‘classic’ right now. Just trust me, it’s good… I think I brought my copy with me.”

Lydia got up, wandering into her room to look for the small novel. It sat in the middle of a stack of books on her bedside table. Smiling, she slipped it out, flipping through the pages fondly.

A thought struck her and she walked back to the door of her room to speak with him again.

“Get in the bed.”

Spencer blinked up at her, looking shocked. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“No,” she chuckled. “I’m going to read you to sleep, doctor. Get into bed.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, his cheeks tinted pink. “I was going to sleep on the couch…”

“Have you seen your legs?” she demanded. “You wouldn’t fit on the couch with your knees touching your chin. Just sleep in my bed and stop whining. You asked for my help and now you can’t escape me.”

“Clearly,” he replied, but there was amusement in his eyes.

He grabbed his things and went to get changed into something more comfortable for sleep. Then, he slowly crawled underneath the covers beside her.

At first, he sat up against the headboard with her, but Lydia shook her head. “You aren’t going to sleep like that.”

“This feels wrong, Lydia. We aren’t dating.”

“Do you think I’m going to take advantage of you,” she joked. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll sleep on the couch, but you are sleeping here, and that’s final. Now then, lay down.”

He did as she asked, sliding down so that he was fully horizontal. “I won’t be able to sleep,” he complained. “When I’m listening to something I give it all of my focus. I’ve never been able to sleep when my mom read to me.”

“Alright. We’ll read a little bit. A few pages, that’s all. And then we can both try to get some sleep. Will you finally stop your whining so I can begin?”

He looked a little startled by her insistence, but finally nodded for her to continue.

“‘ _ August 25, 1991, _ ’” she read. “‘ _ Dear friend, I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn’t try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. Please don’t try and figure out who she is because then you might figure out who I am, and I really don’t want you to do that… _ ’”

~ ~ ~

The first two days were the hardest. Spencer didn’t get any sleep the first night, shaking and sweating fitfully. It had just hit the afternoon the next day when the nausea started. He stayed in the bathroom for most of the day. Lydia wrapped a blanket around him and brought him cold glasses of water and warm tea to help relax him.

At one point, she found him crying from the stomach cramps, his arms wrapped around himself protectively.

But after another day, his withdrawal symptoms had peaked and the rest was just cravings and an underlying uncomfortable feeling. Every night, she read him a few of the letters in  _ The Perks of Being a Wallflower _ .

He didn’t understand it. Not really. The main character, Charlie, contradicted himself a lot and danced around explaining hard topics, but Spencer still listened to her intently. She read it the same way she talked about her family. Her eyes glazed over slightly, her voice hesitant, fitting for the character.

After the first two days, he had to go back into work. Lydia sent him with a ton of painkillers to get him through the day without his brain exploding. And once he was done for the day, he’d end up right back at her door.

“Now that you’re sober,” Lydia had told him, “the biggest challenge will be the cravings. It’s really common for people to relapse. If you feel like relapsing, no matter the place or time, I want you to call me. And even if you do relapse, don’t be afraid to tell me. I’m here to help, remember?”

And she was. She was helping so much.

...and he was starting to reach a point where he wished she wasn’t.

He missed her. He missed her like hell. He missed walking around the park with her. He missed her ordering ice cream for them so that he didn’t have to interact with the cashiers. He missed the way she tousled his hair after kissing him. He even missed working with her.

“I didn’t just leave for you,” she had tried to assure him. “When I went back home, I realized that working for the FBI caused me to miss a lot. I didn’t mind at the time, missing a Christmas or birthday with them. But they deserve more from me.”

“I wish you would come back,” he admitted.

She just laughed. “You told me to pursue this opportunity to become a professor. It’s a good job. I’m excited for it.”

Every moment he was with her, he missed her more.

Asking her out now wasn’t fair to her. She might feel compelled to agree because of the fragile state he was in.

After coming back from his first case since getting sober, he went to stay with her again, excusing it as the stress of the job making him want company just in case. But he was simply in denial about the fact that he still loved her.

Or perhaps denial wasn’t the right word.

Lydia was reading to him that evening, the two of them almost done with the novel, when she realized how tired he was. She wanted to finish up on some grad school work before she went to sleep, so she told him to get some rest and started to go when he called her back.

“Yes?”

“I just… I love you, Lydia,” he mumbled sleepily.

Her whole body froze, her stomach tightening uncomfortably. “Spencer?”

He smiled, his eyes still shut. “Yeah?”

_ Maybe she’d misheard him?  _ He was far too tired to be thinking sensibly. She shook her head and started to leave, but he peeked an eye open.

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” he asked.

_ Fuck… was he actually on something? _ He was acting drunk, but she didn’t think so. He hadn’t been acting weird when he got there so he’d probably just gotten… really, really tired.

“Say what?”

“That you love me? Don’t you… love me?”

It was actually sort of pathetic to hear from him in his distant state. But something possessed her to respond honestly.

“Spencer, I love you so much,” she told him, walking over to where he lay and kneeling beside him. “But you aren’t thinking straight and I don’t want you to say something you regret.”

He shook his head childishly. “I could never regret telling you how I feel unless you don’t love me back.”

Lydia gave him her softest smile and kissed him on the forehead. “We can talk about your feelings tomorrow, all right? Go to bed.”

He hadn’t meant to do it. His exhaustion had won over his common sense. And there was no way to take it back.

_ But did she mean it? _

~ ~ ~

Lydia smiled, hearing Spencer leave the bedroom the next morning. She’d been anxious all night about having this conversation with him, but now that the time was there, a part of her felt relieved to be able to put it all out on the table.

“Do you ever feel like we got together too fast?” she inquired, not looking at him, instead relaxing on the couch.

She could hear him clear his throat awkwardly, probably far more afraid to speak with her than she was.

“No…?” he responded, shyly. “We’d known each other for almost a year when I asked you out. I’ve known people to get married in less time.”

“Not what I meant… Also, can we really call what you did ‘asking me out’?”

“I was the one to ask if you wanted food,” he argued.

“Yeah, and when I asked if it was a date, you got all awkward and said no. I think I asked you, more than you asked me.”

“That’s not fair!” he cried, walking around the couch to face her. “All you did was insist that it  _ was  _ a date!”

She laughed, seeing him all flustered. “Alright, alright. I call it a team effort. How about you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

“Anyways, I don’t mean that we didn’t know each other long enough. I just… were we ready? You spent the whole time fretting about me being in the field and I was so worried about keeping your secret that I didn’t tell my family-- who live in California-- about you! A healthy relationship isn’t built on fear and that’s all we made ours. Fear.”

“I didn’t mean to make you scared,” he worried. “I just couldn’t stand the whole… the whole conversation. The whole ‘we’re dating: Here’s a look into our personal lives’ thing.”

“I respect that!” she said, quickly. “I didn’t need the team to know. But after we broke up, all I could think about was how much wanting to make you happy affected me. I know better now. If you weren’t happy around me being myself, it wouldn’t be a good relationship. Haven’t you learned anything?”

“Don’t yell at your girlfriend?” he tried. “Don’t tell me that worrying about you was wrong, because I’m always going to worry. It’s who I am.”

“I guess my point is, if we were together, would you let me keep working in the field? Would you be comfortable with that? Because when we got together, I thought that was part of the deal. I wouldn’t expect you to risk or stop yourself from doing your job for me and I expected the same. And yet, every time I got back from something dangerous, you would act as if I was being stupid and I should never do it again-”

“No! No, no.” He began repeating himself, his fingers tugging at his hair by the roots. “I never wanted you to- It’s just that this job is… I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

She smiled at him, standing up to meet him at… well almost at eye level.

“That’s all I want, Spencer. I want us to be happy. Not afraid of our relationship. I want to be me and not worry about how to make you happy, because you already are. I mean, I’m so happy with you. You just being you.”

“Does this mean… you’re serious? You actually want to get back together?”

“Unless you have a compelling reason not to,” she teased.

Lydia was so distracted by the look of excitement in his eyes, she barely even noticed him getting closer until his lips were pressed against hers.

“Woah,” she mumbled, barely pulling away an inch. “Right to it, then?”

“I’ve wanted to do that for two months,” he admitted. “I really missed you.”

She gave him another peck. “I missed you, too, dumbass.”

  
  



	16. No Way Out, Part 2: The Evilution of Frank (S2E23)

Lydia grabbed her stuff for work. She had a shift at 9 AM and then a meeting with her professor soon after. In a month, she’d graduate and earn her PhD. It was sort of unbelievable. 

And to add to the unbelievable, Spencer was doing insanely better. Two months clean and he was already more emotionally sound and happy. If pride was a physical entity, her’s would be able to fly for him.

Throwing her phone into a purse, she swung the door open and made it one step out the door before she was forcibly sent back in.

It took her several moments to register what was happening. She noticed the man’s blue button down much faster than she registered his face. Felt his hand gripping her shoulder. Smelled his sweat. There was a prick in her neck.

And then her body went numb. She fell to the floor like a ragdoll, the only thing she could move were her eyes. It was horrifying. She could feel her heart rate skyrocket as she tried to do something.

And then he stood over her, letting her get a good look at his face.

_ Frank _ . The psychopath from Nevada. He’d come back for her.

~ ~ ~

Spencer walked the streets outside Gideon’s apartment with Morgan and Prentiss. They’d gotten a call late that evening that a murder had taken place in Gideon’s apartment and they needed to go to the scene for questioning.

Almost immediately the team recognized the MO. Ketamine, evisceration, and the removal of a rib bone. They weren’t on the case. It belonged to Maryland PD. But they weren’t about to let Frank get away with this.

“We know Frank will do whatever it takes to blend in and not stand out,” Emily was saying as Spencer approached her and Morgan from down the block.

“Well, to avoid attracting attention he would have simply walked calmly out of that crime scene,” Morgan reasoned.

“The evisceration of Sarah, though, means he would have been soaked in her blood,” Reid argued.

“No,” Emily huffed. “He had access to Gideon’s closet. He cleans up, gets a change of clothes, he’s out.”

Morgan shook his head. “Yet he left no trace of evidence at the crime scene.”

They all jumped as Hotch spoke up, appearing in their circle out of nowhere. He was carrying a plastic grocery bag, tied shut. “Gideon said he dumped it en route.”

“You spoke with Gideon?” Emily asked. “Well, that’s all the proof we need, right? We can turn him over to the MPD now.”

“By the time this comes back from the lab, Frank’s long gone.”

“If the cops find out we’re hiding evidence and a material witness from them-” Morgan tried to argue, but Hotch was set.

“We’re not hiding evidence. We’ll give this to forensics, let them search for DNA. We’ll look for Frank.”

A kid suddenly approached them, kicking his skateboard up into his hand when he had their attention. “Agent Morgan?”

“What the hell?” Emily whispered.

“They say beauty can cover a multitude of sins,” the boy recited. “While underneath it all, we all look exactly the same.”

Morgan looked around the street wildly. “That’s Frank. He said that to me in the diner.”

“Give me Jane, or I’ll kill them all. Including your precious Lydia.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Lydia. Oh god. She was the one who conducted his interview. If he’s targeting us in order to find Jane, she’s on his list, too.”

“Why does he think we have Jane?” Morgan demanded.

Spencer was already dialing Lydia’s number, listening to the phone ring. _ Pick up. Pick up. _

“ _ Hi, this is Lydia Ambers. Sorry that I missed you- _ ”

“Lydia’s not answering her cell,” he fretted.

“Of course not. She hasn’t answered any of us in months,” Morgan said.

Hotch sighed, frustrated. “We need to locate Jane and Lydia. Soon.”

“I’ll go to Lydia’s apartment,” Spencer insisted, walking off before anyone could argue or ask how he knew where it was.

~ ~ ~

Frank had covered her mouth and bound her hands in case she came out from underneath the influence of the ketamine during the drive.

He’d laid her out in the backseat, so she was left to stare up at the ceiling of the car and listen. She didn’t know where he was taking her. Didn’t know what he wanted. And she couldn’t alert anyone of her predicament. Unless Spencer decided to stop by soon, no one would know she had disappeared.

“You’re quite lucky, Lydia.” She was repulsed just by the sound of his voice. Pretending not to be intimidated by him the first time they met was enough to leave her disgusted for days. “I would have just killed you, but I fear it wouldn’t have been very satisfying. You aren’t afraid of me like the others.”

He still thought she was a psychopath. It had saved her so far, but there was no way she could keep up this unfeeling act long enough to survive. She was terrified of him.

“Your team will come after you, I’m sure of it, Lydia. But until then, I need to prove just how serious I am.”

She didn’t feel the car come to a stop, but Frank got out, leaving her there, in her impaired state. She wished more than anything that that was a bad plan, but frankly, she was stiff as a plank of wood. She wasn’t going anywhere.

~ ~ ~

Spencer rushed into the conference room, out of breath after practically running all the way from Lydia’s apartment.

“Lydia’s apartment door was open and her purse and phone were left in the doorway,” he sputtered to the team.

Hotch nodded sternly. “We don’t think he plans to kill Lydia yet. It sounds like he’s going after people we’ve saved from past cases.”

“I’ve got nine possible targets,” Emily explained as she walked in with a handful of files. “Their contact details are in their files. Everybody grab a phone, let’s start calling.”

Spencer did his best to help, but his mind was a mess. Frank had Lydia.  _ Frank  _ had  _ Lydia _ .

She must be so scared. He couldn’t even fathom the idea that he could lose her. No, Lydia wouldn’t let him kill her. She was too spiteful for that. She just had to hold on a little longer.

“Rebecca Bryant?” JJ was saying over the central speakerphone in the room. “Hi, this is Jennifer Jareau with the FBI.”

“ _ He’s not Agent Gideon, is he? _ ” Her voice was a timid whisper on the other side of the line. Frank had to be there with her.

The whole room stopped, waiting to see how this played out.

“Rebecca, this is Agent Hotchner. If you can, very calmly excuse yourself and get out of the house. Can you do that?”

There was silence.

“Rebecca,” JJ tried again, “just calmly hang up, walk to your door, and leave, okay? Rebecca?”

“ _ What’s going on? _ ” she demanded.

There was a small gasp over the line. JJ and Hotch called her name, but there was silence. And then…

“ _ I regret to inform you that Rebecca’s name should be moved to a new list. _ ”

“Frank, we don’t have her,” Hotch tried to reason. “We do  _ not  _ have Jane.”

“ _ I will not stop until I have her back… I would imagine Lydia says hello, though she hasn’t said much at all since I paid her a visit. _ ”

“Frank… Frank!”

He was gone.

~ ~ ~

By the time Lydia had gotten feeling back in her limbs, Frank had her arms tied to the clothing hanger inside of a closet, her feet bound to the floor. She didn’t know where she was. It was hard to judge the amount of time she was in the car, although it seemed to be light out when he carried her into the building.

It was an apartment. Why on Earth had he taken her to an apartment? Who did it belong to?

He removed the duct tape from her mouth and she spit in his face. “What the hell do you want, Frank?” she demanded.

“I  _ want  _ my Jane back. I figured if Agent Gideon wanted to take something of mine, I would take something of his.”

Lydia pulled desperately at the restraints around her hands, but they were painfully tight. “I don’t know where Jane is, Frank. I don’t work for the FBI anymore. I haven’t talked to Gideon in months.”

“You’re a liar,” he said, calmly. “I know that Jason will come for you. And he’ll give up Jane, just like you did for all those kids. If you don’t believe me, why don’t we ask him?”

Frank pulled out a cell phone, putting it on speaker for her to listen.

“ _ Hello? _ ” Surprisingly, it was Hotch’s voice on the other end.

“Agent Hotchner,” Frank greeted. “I need to speak with Agent Gideon. Could you patch me through to him?”

“ _ What do you want, Frank? _ ”

“I have someone who’d like to talk to him.”

Frank looked at her expectantly and although she didn’t like the idea of doing what he wanted, she needed Hotch to know about her involvement in the case. “It’s Lydia, Hotch. He took me from my apartment this morning.”

There was a moment of silence. “ _ We know, Lydia. We’re going to find you, don’t worry. _ ”

“Jason,” Frank ordered. “Now.”

“ _ Keep holding on, Lydia, _ ” Hotch told her, before patching them through to Gideon.

“ _ Yeah? _ ” her old mentor’s voice asked.

This time, Frank didn’t say anything, just held the phone up to Lydia for her to speak.

“Gideon? It’s Lydia. Don’t worry about me. Keep working the case. If Jane ran away, we can’t just give her up. I’m going to be fine.”

“ _ Lydia, where are you? _ ”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was in the car for hours, but I couldn’t see anything. I have no reference point.”

“ _ Okay… okay, everything’s going to be alright. _ ”

“I know,” she assured him. “Worry about you.”

Before he could respond, Frank took the phone off speaker and put it against his own ear.

“Jason… Shh, Jason. I chose the station because I know how much you love trains. I saw the toys in your apartment.”

Suddenly, he shut the phone, covered her mouth once more with the tape and shut the door, effectively locking her into the dark closet.

~ ~ ~

Hotch sent Spencer and JJ to Manhattan to find Mary Breitkopf and search her apartment. It frustrated Spencer to no end. He did everything he could not to think about Lydia, but it felt like the whole team cared more about catching Frank than saving her.

Except for Gideon. Hotch had made it clear not to tell Gideon, because he feared it would cloud his judgement. And if what Hotch told them about Gideon’s talk with her over the phone was true, it had. Gideon was vengeful.

The manager of the building guided Spencer and JJ to Mary Breitkopf’s apartment. He explained that in the whole time he’d been working there, he’d never actually seen her, but she paid her rent on time every month. As he walked, he tossed the keys back and forth in his hands.

“It’s right this way.”

They had three officers following them, guns at the ready.

“Woah, hey,” JJ stopped him before they reached the door. “No matter what happens this time, we don’t split up, clear?”

It took him a moment to remember that the last time it had been the two of them on a case, Tobias Hankel had taken him. He nodded quickly. “Crystal clear.”

Once the door was open, the two agents had their guns at the ready, leading the search into the apartment.

The place felt old. There was dust on everything. The living area/kitchen was empty, so they moved onto another door, presumably leading to a bedroom.

JJ pushed it open, doing a quick sweep of the room, but it was far too dark to be sure. Spencer stepped up to a covered window, pulling the curtain away and seeing JJ flinch in his peripheral vision.

He turned around and came face to face with a body, laid out on the bed. The remains were mummified, surrounded by dead flowers. Dead for years, at least. The hands were laid across the chest, as if in peaceful rest.

The two of them could have stayed there forever, staring at the horrifying corpse, but were startled once more by a rustling sound. A closet was locked shut to their right and something was definitely moving inside.

Once more armed, JJ and Spencer approached the door. He opened it for her, having her aim at whatever they found inside, her gun almost smacking Lydia right across the face.

“Oh my god, Lydia,” JJ sighed, putting her weapon down at once.

Lydia’s dark hair was a rats nest over her face. Her whole body weight was hanging on the coat hanger she was tied to. Her eyes were heavy as she rolled her head back to look at them, her body convulsing as she tried to gasp through her duct taped mouth.

Spencer just looked at her, relief filling his body to see her alive. He wanted to pull her into a hug, but JJ was preventing him both physically and socially.

“I’m going to rip the tape off now,” JJ warned her.

Lydia nodded and shut her eyes tightly in preparation. Still, the sound of it ripping away from cheek to cheek was painful, as well as seeing the red, irritated skin afterwards. “Son of a bitch,” she said, panting heavily. “Can someone cut me down?”

JJ pulled out a pocket knife, starting at her feet.

“H- How are you feeling?” Spencer asked cautiously. They hadn’t needed to fake around anyone in a while. It felt weird to him.

“My body feels like lead,” she grumbled, her voice hoarse. “And the sunlight is killing my head. But I’ll live.”

“Spencer, call for an EMT. She’s probably still got some ketamine in her system. We don’t know how much he used on her.”

Spencer hesitated, but eventually stepped away from them to follow her instructions. JJ then moved onto Lydia’s hands.

“I don’t think I can stand on my own,” Lydia warned her as she felt the restraints on her hands loosen.

“I don’t think you’re that heavy,” JJ laughed. “You can lean on me.”

She nodded and as one hand slipped free, she threw it over JJ’s shoulder, trying to hold herself up as the other arm slipped free.

The two girl’s stayed there for a moment, Lydia’s arms wrapped around JJ’s neck. She chuckled tiredly into JJ’s shoulder. “Thanks for saving my ass. Didn’t think we’d meet again like this.”

“You had a lot of people scared,” JJ admitted. “When you fell off the grid… the first time that is, we figured something big must have happened.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t say more… Goodbyes are hard for me.”

JJ helped her out of the closet and Lydia shrieked.

“Oh, dear lord, there’s a body in here!”

JJ chuckled, continuing to walk her into the living room. “You’ve seen worse, Lydia.”

“Yeah, but I was in the same general room as a dead body for hours,” she argued. “It isn’t exactly pleasant.”

“Well, we’re going to take you down stairs and hopefully get you checked out by an EMT, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

~ ~ ~

After getting cleared by the medic, Lydia leaned against the side of one of the cop cars outside. She was regaining most of her strength and wanted to go back to her apartment and get this day over with.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked, stepping up next to her. He didn’t lean in too close. JJ was distractedly speaking on the phone, but she could still turn at any moment and see them.

“I’m fine, Spence,” she answered. “I’m frustrated that now I have to call my boss and professor and tell them that I didn’t make it because I was kidnapped.”

“Seems like a reasonable excuse,” he teased, but he clearly did not find the situation funny. “Lydia, you don’t have to be okay. You pretended all day not to be scared of Frank. No one expects you to skip back to your apartment.”

“It’s draining,” she admitted. “And I’m really craving ice cream. But I wasn’t as tormented as you might think. Frank, he didn’t want to kill me. I was his bargaining chip all along. I knew that so long as I waited him out, you guys would find me.”

He nodded. “We’ll definitely go get ice cream in celebration.”

“You and I get kidnapped and drugged way too often,” she laughed. “This is starting to look like a pattern.”

“Lydia?”

She raised an eyebrow at JJ, who was holding out her phone. “Hotch wants to speak with you.”

Lydia took in a large breath, biting down on the inside of her cheek. Yikes. Not counting their brief interaction with Frank, she hadn’t talked to Hotch since her resignation. “Hotch?”

“ _ Lydia. It’s good to hear you’re doing better. _ ”

“What happened to Frank?”

“ _ Suicide. He and Jane jumped in front of a train. _ ”

“Shit,” Lydia mumbled. “Poor Jane.”

“ _ She hasn’t been in her right mind for some time now. There wasn’t much we could do. _ ”

“Still. No one deserves that…” She waited for him to drop the formalities and get to the point, but he just stayed silent. “Did you have something you wanted to say to me?”

“ _ I thought Gideon might want to know you’re okay. He doesn’t have his cell on him, so he couldn’t call you directly. _ ”

“Okay. Put him on, I guess.”

Hotch explained that he was on his way, but warned her to be gentle with him. There was some shuffling before Gideon spoke. “ _ Hello? _ ”

“Hey. Thanks for not letting me die.”

“ _ Thanks for not dying, _ ” he chuckled, tiredly. “ _ I wouldn’t have had the strength to tell your family that I got you killed. _ ”

“You  _ didn’t  _ get me killed,” she argued. “Or, if I  _ had _ been killed, it wouldn’t have been your fault. You worry about yourself for now.”

“ _ Yeah, _ ” he sighed. “ _ I think I’ll do that. _ ”

Lydia gave JJ back her phone, then turned on Spencer. “There’s something you aren’t telling me. Gideon’s grief is through the roof. Did Frank kill someone we know?”

Spencer hesitated. “Frank killed two people. One of Gideon’s old college friends and Rebecca Bryant.”

“Rebecca Bryant?” Lydia paused, trying to place the name. “I…  _ Fisher King’s _ Rebecca Bryant?”

“He got a list of people we’ve saved on past cases. He got to her before we could.”

“Oh god,” Lydia breathed. “That poor, poor girl. She’d lived through so much as it is.”

Spencer nodded, but his thoughts were elsewhere. “You don’t miss the job, do you?”

“After today?” she asked. “Definitely not.”

She’d been kidnapped. Drugged. Driven to New York. Left in a closet with a dead corpse outside. And in the end, they didn’t catch the bad guy and three innocent women were killed. Why would she miss this job?

At least, those were going to be her arguments in case Spencer asked her about it. But in all honesty…  _ she’d lied. _

~ ~ ~

“Thank you, Lydia,” Hotch said as she finished giving him her statement for the events that had transpired. “It was nice… to see you again.”

“Not under these circumstances, it wasn’t,” she grumbled. “But believe me, I’ve missed you guys like hell.”

“Well then, why did you leave?”

She rolled her eyes. “I was a full time grad student, working for the FBI, dealing with a mother who had a stroke, and I thought… one of these stressors had to go.”

He chuckled. “I’m going to be honest with you. You had Frank convinced that you were a psychopath, so I know you’re a good actor. You can come up with a better lie than that. Why don’t you?”

Lydia brushed her hair out of her face and stood up. “I don’t have anything to prove to you,” she admitted. “You can assume whatever you want about why I left. I love you guys a lot, but in the end, it wasn’t enough to keep me here. I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he replied, softly. “Please… Please keep in touch. We were all really worried about you, Lydia. That is, before the kidnapping.”

“I’ll be better.” She tried to play it off, but she did feel guilty for leaving them. All of them. When JJ told her she had to go back to the office, she flipped. Seeing the whole team again was terrifying. And she knew they were out there, waiting. “Now that I think about it, though. I might not be alive to call you in a week.”

“Why’s that?”

She just nodded her head to the door and stepped outside.

“Lydia Ambers!” Garcia shrieked immediately. “Do you know how  _ stressed  _ I was to find out you had resigned, effective immediately, with  _ no  _ notice? Do you know _ how many times I called your cell and left messages trying to find out if you were okay?! _ You better have been in a  _ coma _ , missy!”

Before Lydia could apologize, she was enveloped in a hug.

“I missed you too, Spice,” she whispered.

Emily was right behind Penelope, also giving her a hug. “I’m glad to see you’re okay. When Spencer said you had been taken by Frank, I-”

“I don’t want to know what you thought,” Lydia admitted. “I’m okay now.”

“Well?” Morgan demanded. “Out with it. Where the hell have you been?”

Lydia blinked at him, as all eyes turned on her, expectantly. “I was… at home. Working and stuff.”

He scoffed at her. “Excuse me? People don’t just-”

“Morgan,” she interrupted. “Not right now, okay?”

She’d hoped he might see her unease and relax, but he shook his head and stormed off.

She deserved it. She’d gotten his messages. He was truly concerned for her. Refusing him an explanation wasn’t fair to him. But to say that she had chosen her family over them seemed… unreasonable. She couldn’t explain it.

  
  



	17. When We Last Spoke...

Lydia groaned when she heard a knock at her door at 3 AM on a summer morning. She dragged herself out of bed, knowing that she would be exhausted the rest of the day after this, but she didn’t regret getting up when she saw who it was.

_ Spencer _ . Her mind ran a mile a minute: _ What was he doing there? Was it a relapse? Had he had a horrible nightmare? Maybe his last case had ended badly? _

“What’s wrong, Spencer?” she asked as she threw open her door, stepping out of his way automatically so that he could come in.

But instead of stepping around her, he mowed her down in a hug, burying his face into the top of her head. “Gideon hasn’t been showing up to work, so I went to check on him,” Spencer admitted, not letting go of her. “I figured he was at his cabin because after his friend died, he didn’t like going home. But when I got there, the door was unlocked and he’d left his badge and gun and a letter.”

Lydia shuffled away slightly so that she could close the door, then led him over to the couch. “Gideon’s left? Do you think it’s a ‘I don’t want to work here anymore’ disappearance or a ‘drop off the face of the Earth like Elle and I’ disappearance?”

Spencer wrapped himself around her once more as soon as they were on the couch, pulling himself into her side like a child. “‘Face of the Earth’,” he replied. “His letter said he was looking for his faith in humanity again.”

“Did you bring the letter?”

Spencer nodded, pulling it out of his pocket and beginning to read it outloud. He didn’t need to look at it, given his memory, but having it in front of him felt more real.

“ _ Spencer, I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me. You must be frightened. I apologize for that. I never meant to cause you any pain. And I also never envisioned writing this letter. I’ve searched for a satisfactory explanation for what I’m doing. All I’ve come up with is that a profiler needs to have solid footing. I don’t think I do anymore. _

“ _ When my dear friend Sarah was murdered, it tore a hole in me. And I truly believed the way to handle the pain was to get back to our work as quickly as possible. Remember the first case we had after? It was on a college campus. Campuses are supposed to be places of life and excitement. They’re supposed to be about the future, figuring out who you and who you’re gonna be. They're supposed to be about dreams, not nightmares. _

“ _ In this line of work, I was afraid I would lose the ability to trust. But I’ve realized I can’t really look at anyone without seeing their death. And as bad as losing faith in humanity seems, losing your faith in happy endings is much worse. Kids-- they’re so resilient. They trust and believe in a way I remember but can’t reach anymore. Like a very old picture. You remember the circumstances with the feelings, the emotions, but they’re just out of your grasp. _

“ _ What was I even doing there? How many times have I told you that a profiler cannot do the job if the mind is unfocused? My mind has never been more unfocused than it was on that campus. Was the world always this gray? Is it only in the movies that it’s black and white? Is that just an illusion? I used to understand my place, my direction, where I was headed. Profiling requires belief-- belief in the profile, belief in yourself. _

“ _ Hotch’s suspension was the last domino. I said at the beginning of this letter that I knew it would be you to come up here. I’m sorry the explanation couldn’t be better. And I am so sorry that it doesn’t make more sense. But I’ve already told you, I just don’t understand any of it anymore. _

“ _ Lydia kept telling me to worry about me and that’s what I’m doing. I just wish I could tell her how sorry I am for the way things ended between us. She was so brilliant and I couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to use her skills to help people, but now I realize that what she did wasn’t running. She was protecting herself from the tragedy. If you can find her again, Spencer, hold onto her. I know how much you two cared for one another. _

“ _ I guess I’m just looking for it again. For the belief I had back in college. The belief I had when I first met Sarah and it all seemed so right. The belief in happy endings. Jason. _ ”

Lydia kept holding onto Spencer as he finished shakily. She knew that this was difficult for him. Gideon wasn’t just her mentor, he’d been Spencer’s for many years before. And it hurt him not to be able to say goodbye.

“Gideon really thought you were powerful,” Spencer mumbled, not looking up at her. “Before we hired you, he’d talk about your intuition and strength in Santa Cruz. When you left, he tried to talk to me about us, but I refused. But then again, that was probably all the proof he needed to know that I loved you. And I needed you back.”

Lydia chuckled sadly. “That must be why he showed up at my apartment just days before you did. He knew we’d find each other once again.”

“He showed up here?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah. Said he needed me to help you. The whole team was worried, to my understanding, but Gideon said I was the only person who you might talk to.”

“He was right.”

“He was right,” Lydia agreed. “Hopefully in his heart he knows we’re okay.”

“Yeah.” The stress of the day was beginning to weigh down on Spencer and he found himself drifting off to sleep on Lydia’s shoulder. “Hopefully.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia felt like a kid as she repeatedly put up, then took down her hair.

Spencer had promised to take her out to a nice dinner that night to celebrate her graduation. He’d felt extremely guilty about missing the ceremony, though she tried to tell him that it wasn’t a big deal. When he got the case, he called her immediately to explain he might not be back in time, which is all she could have asked for.

But, nevertheless, he insisted on making up for it with food and who was she to argue with that?

Huffing, she brushed through her hair for the millionth time, telling herself that she’d just leave it down, though more likely than not she’d regret it in a few minutes and try to put it up again.

Luckily, Spencer arrived to put her out of her misery. She dropped the brush and ran to open the door for him.

Outside, he wore a button down and khakis, not much different from his usual outfit. His hair was getting long, something she’d pointed out to him on many occasions recently, which he just shrugged off, saying he’d get it cut eventually.

“Hey,” he smiled.

“Hi.”

They stood there for a moment, staring at one another, as if waiting for the other to say something. Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I didn’t know you owned a dress,” he admitted, teasingly.

As they ate, he told her about what had changed in the team. He was pretty sure Haley was filing for a divorce, but Hotch would never admit it. But the team could easily see something had changed when he stopped calling her everyday. Lydia wondered how Jack played into all of this. Hotch adored his son, but there was no way he could care for him as a single parent. Haley would get full custody, no doubt.

After her mother died, Lydia’s father could barely manage his job and daughters. And certainly not his grief. They had that in common.

“How many days has it been since our first date?” she asked Spencer.

“413.”

“And, how much do you remember about that night?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I remember everything.”

“Well… do you remember how you were feeling?”

“Terrified,” he responded quickly. “I’d never- I didn’t really do the whole dating thing. But I liked you so much and I was so scared I had misunderstood your feelings-”

“That’s why  _ I  _ clarified,” she laughed. “This is why I don’t think you asked me out! If it was up to you, we’d never have started dating!”

“Actually, I think eventually it would have driven me crazy to just be friends with you. I mean, we broke up for just over two months and every time I saw you I wanted to scream about my feelings.”

“I would  _ love  _ to see that,” she joked. “But the reason I asked is just… I shared a lot with you that night. About my mom and stuff. And I feel bad for giving you a whole sob story on our first date, but… I’ve gotten so good at keeping secrets that I don’t even think they’re secrets anymore. Does that make sense?”

He shrugged. “Is this about us, or-?”

“No,” she assured him. “I just mean… the team still has no clue about why I left. And I don’t know why that is. I know they’d listen and understand, but I’ve gotten so used to avoiding it that this is just normal for me. I mean, how many questions do  _ you  _ have about my family?”

“A few,” he said.

“I can’t even remember what I have and haven’t told you at this point,” she admitted. “I’m not hiding, I promise. I won’t be upset if you want to know something. But when I left the Bureau, I honestly thought that it was causing me to grow apart from my family and now I’m realizing that I didn’t really know them to begin with.”

“You lost me.”

“My dad just got released from prison.” She looked down at the table in front of her so that she didn’t feel the need to profile his shock. “I know I didn’t tell you that before. He’d gotten caught up manufacturing illegal drugs and selling them to nearby rings. He was never part of that scene, but when taking care of my sister and I got harder as a single parent, he wanted to have as much money to spare as he could.”

She didn’t expect Spencer to be totally okay with the idea. Her father had preyed upon people afflicted with addictions and mental instability and he was justly punished for it. But Lydia had forgiven her father. He had enough guilt as it was over the whole thing.

“That’s why you lived with Sonia,” was all he said.

“Sorry if you felt like I was hiding something from you. I was embarrassed to admit it, but you deserve to know.”

It took him a few minutes to respond. “I haven’t talked to my dad in 16 years. He sort of just… left me and my mom.”

“I’m sorry about that. How much do you remember about him?”

Spencer hesitated. “Not as much as I remember about you, that’s for sure.”

Lydia nodded. “I wanted to have a better relationship with my father. And my sister, and Sonia, and the twins. I could probably come up with a dozen reasons why I left the Bureau and all of them would be people. They deserve more time from me than I gave them when I was a contractor. And if anyone in the BAU asks, you can tell them that.”

“Lydia,” he whispered, “if you missed your family, why are you still in DC?”

She blinked. It was a reasonable question.  _ How much had she done since quitting to rebuild her relationship with her father? With her sister? _ “I don’t know…”

~ ~ ~

Spencer got to work taking down crime scene photos as the team finished up a case in Denver. A team of two brothers who grew up in an abusive foster home and went around murdering families of four.

Knowing that the parents who had abused those boys were still taking in kids had shaken the whole team. Social services had promised to do an investigation on the family, but wouldn’t take any of the kids into custody until they had reason to believe they were in danger. Frankly, no one was happy about the arrangement.

Then, there was the other girl. Out of all the families the brothers had killed, there had been one survivor. A teenager, named Carrie Ortiz. The poor girl watched them murder her family and still fought to help the investigation. JJ had tried to get in contact with her distant relatives, but so far, they’d heard nothing, meaning she was going to be sent to a foster home as well.

“I could take her,” Emily offered as she and Hotch put the photos into files.

“Take her?” Hotch asked.

“Carrie. To DC.”

“You mean, to live with you?”

“Yeah.”

Spencer turned around as he listened to their conversation. It was an interesting idea, one he hadn’t thought Emily would consider. He knew she’d taken a liking to the girl on the case, but it was a large commitment and clearly Hotch thought so as well.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I have room, money, and, you know, she’s smart. Two, three years, she goes to college.”

“Prentiss,” Hotch began. His voice was stern. “This is the job, and I need to know that you can be objective.”

“And I need to know that I can be human,” she argued.

There was a pause and Spencer turned back to his work, so that they wouldn’t think he was eavesdropping.

“JJ heard from the family and they’re on their way from LA,” Hotch explained, finally.

“Oh.” She was clearly disappointed. But she did her best to put on a smile and mumble. “That’s… that’s great.”

He agreed, then closed up one of his case files and walked off.

Realizing the two of them were alone now, Spencer walked over to help Emily clean off the table some more.

“You know, you should consider talking to Lydia,” he told her. “She lived in a foster home for a few years. She might be able to tell you more about it.”

Emily blinked up at him, confused. “She did?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “She should probably tell you about it herself, but I think she’d be happy to know you were interested in taking kids in.”

“It’s just…” She tried to come up with a good way to explain herself. “With all these kids today- Losing your parents is such a difficult thing by itself. They deserve to go to loving people who will understand them.”

Spencer nodded. “It was something that bothered her when she was working here, too. She wasn’t ever a fan of leaving kids to social services. But again, she should probably explain that all herself.”

Finishing up, he stepped away from the table and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, Reid.”

“Anytime.”

~ ~ ~

“You should really talk to Sonia about that, Emily,” Lydia explained as she grabbed a snack from her kitchen. “She would love to hear that you were interested, but to be honest, I think adoption is a better route for you if you want to help kids who’ve been through some of the things you’ve seen on cases. In foster care, no matter how great you are at being a mom, there’s still a chance that the kids in your care will be moved and end up in a bad household. I think it would be better if you just took them out of the system entirely. But, I’ll send you my mom’s number and you can call her and ask her all your questions.”

“ _ Thank you so much, Lydia. I don’t think… If I do decide to do this, it won’t be for a while. But when Spencer told me that you could understand Carrie’s situation, I thought- _ ”

“Of course.” Lydia brushed away her worries quickly. “Knowing what it would entail ahead of time is super helpful. I’m not holding you to anything, if you change your mind. It can be challenging and your job is stressful enough as it is.”

“ _ True. I’d have to have to take in older kids. Ones who could be home alone for a few days. _ ”

“Or, you know, ones that could be home alone long enough for me to pick them up and take them to my place,” Lydia offered.

“ _ Seriously? _ ” she chuckled. “ _ You’d do that for me? _ ”

“Of course I would, Em. You’d be a great mom and I want you to have the opportunity to do that, even with your job. But, before we get ahead of ourselves, I’ll send you Sonia’s number.”

“ _ Thank you. _ ”

Lydia sent a text to Sonia, warning her ahead of time, before sending the number as promised. Then, she went back to her couch, where she was relaxing, reading a book.

A few hours later, she got another strange call, this time from Morgan.

She hadn’t spoken to Derek in weeks. He’d been reasonably upset to find out that she wasn’t going to explain why she’d disappeared on them. So, seeing his number, she figured it had to be important.

“Derek? What’s wrong?”

His response left her speechless. “ _ Your dad is in prison? _ ”

_ What the hell? _ Spencer wouldn’t have told, she was sure of it.

“Where did you hear that?” she mumbled, hesitantly.

“ _ Garcia let it slip. She thought you’d already told me. _ ”

Nervously, Lydia started to spin her ring around her finger. She had just been speaking to Spencer about telling people This shouldn’t have been so scary. “That’s fine… and no, not anymore. He got released about a month ago.”

“ _ Why didn’t you tell me? _ ”

Shakily, she took in a deep breath, knowing that there was more to his phone call than just shock. “Morgan, the last time we spoke, you were really angry with me.”

“ _ Was he the reason you left? _ ”

He was not giving up easy. No, for some reason, he was fixed on the idea that her father being in prison was… well what  _ did  _ he think about it?

“I’m sorry that I left the way that I did, Derek. I’m so, so sorry. There were so many reasons for me to run at the time and I didn’t think about why I should stay. So, yes, my father had something to do with it. I had spoken to him while I was in California and I just… the BAU had changed the way I looked at him and it confused me. But it doesn’t excuse me being such an ass-”

“ _ No, it doesn’t, _ ” he agreed. “ _ But Lydia, I didn’t understand why you were hiding things. This… this I get. _ ”

“You get…?”

“ _ I don’t blame you for not telling me _ ,” he explained. “ _ I wasn’t lying when I said that I didn’t care that you had disappeared all of a sudden. I honestly just hated the worrying. I hated not knowing. I know now. So, are we cool? _ ”

Lydia paused. Most of the time when she got defensive, things ended badly. Somehow, ever since she got to DC, people just… understood her. Two years living on the east coast and it still threw her for a loop every time.

“Yes, of course. Although I never imagined that my father’s criminal record would help me resolve fights. I always thought it would start them.”

“ _ I know, kiddo. But, to be fair, we get into the mindspace of serial killers. No one is going to hate your father for being a drug dealer for a little while. _ ”

“I might,” she joked. But it wasn’t really true. “And he wasn’t a drug  _ dealer _ , exactly. More like… knowingly aiding in the creation of illegal drugs and profiting off their sales.”

“ _ Whatever, kiddo. I know from first hand experience that your trust is hard to gain. If you trust him, I don’t judge you for that. _ ”

It was weird to hear that. Mostly, because she didn’t often see it that way. She thought that she was hiding her father’s incarceration because they would look at her differently for it. But of course they wouldn’t. Her father made that decision, not her. So perhaps, what she really thought was that they’d judge her for the fact that she still loved him. Despite his flaws.

But they didn’t care about that either. They cared about  _ her _ .

_ She really, really missed the team... _

  
  



	18. Penelope (S3E9)

“Did you speak to Dr. Priya?” Spencer asked the minute Lydia entered his apartment.

“Yes. And you talked to Hotch?”

He nodded, watching her pace around the living room. “Lydia… It’s going to be fine. Frankly, we need you now more than ever. He’s not going to send you away.”

Lydia had finally come to terms with the fact that acting like she hated the BAU was a huge lie. Saying that it was unhealthy for her or that she wanted to try out something new was just to cover the fact that she was hurt. And she’d acted rashly. But now, it was November, almost a full year since she’d quit.

“What if the team doesn’t like it?” Between sentences, she was biting down on her lips, making them turn white from loss of blood flow. “I was… God, why was I so stupid? I disappeared for months with no word because I was scared to talk to them. They should hate me.”

“No one hates you,” he argued, standing up to stop her. “You need to calm down. Tomorrow, you’re just going in to talk to him. That’s it. Don’t worry about the job for now.”

She tried to listen to him, but she was still jumping with uncontained energy. “But I do worry about the job! I… I really want it back.”

“I know. I know. And you deserve it. He’ll see that. Just start out slow.”

_ Slow… slow… What was she thinking? Hotch could never trust her again. Even if he did forgive her, unannounced quitting doesn’t make for a devoted worker. She’d really gone and screwed everything up. _

~ ~ ~

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, when she arrived in his office the next morning, Hotch didn’t say a word to her and instead pointed to something on his desk. Approaching her normal seat across from him, she realized it was her old badge.

If Spencer had told him ahead of time that she wanted to speak about her old job, she was going to kill her boyfriend. But Hotch… sometimes he just knew what you were thinking.

“You’d take me back after everything?” she finally asked. “Really?”

“There is one condition to it,” he admitted, barely batting an eye at her confusion. “I want you to take the gun qualifications test. At this point, you get yourself into so much trouble that I’d much rather you have a gun on your belt.”

Hesitantly, she nodded, biting back a smile. “Yes, sir.”

“We have one new team member you should meet,” he continued, getting up. “After we schedule your test, I’ll start calling you in again to consult.”

Lydia could barely speak, not expecting the conversation to go by so quickly. “Okay, great.”

“How’s the teaching thing going?”

“I’m set to start at the university in January,” she told him. “And don’t worry, I’ve already spoken to everyone I needed to about conflicts with this job. Everything should be fine.”

“I’m glad,” he said, genuinely, leading her out of his office. Once outside, they ran into someone walking out of Gideon’s old office. “Ah yes, Dave, meet Lydia Ambers. She was a forensic contractor for the team. We’re discussing taking her back on for cases. Lydia, meet David Rossi.”

Lydia smiled at the older man, reaching a hand out politely. “Nice to meet you. And actually,” she turned to look at Hotch once more, “it’s  _ Dr _ . Lydia Ambers, now.”

“Wow,” Rossi mumbled. “You didn’t tell me there was another child genius on the team.”

Hotch looked absolutely blown away. “You didn’t tell me you graduated, Lydia. That’s absolutely amazing.”

“Thanks, I just got my PhD in June-”

“Lydia!” A voice boomed down in the bullpen. Morgan was leaping from his seat, already on his way to her.

“Could you excuse me?” she asked Agent Rossi. He nodded, a knowing look in his eyes.

She had barely turned around before Morgan mowed her down, spinning her in his arms like a Disney princess.

“Derek!” she shrieked, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. “You’re going to make me sick!”

“How about a call to let your friends know that you were stopping by?” he demanded. “None of us have seen you in months!”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, finally pulling away from his embrace and right into Emily’s arms. “Oh! Hello, Emily!”

“We missed you!” she cried.

“I’m texting Garcia right now,” Morgan admitted.

“Oh dear.” Lydia’s face was warming, overwhelmed by all the people surrounding her. JJ was on her way over to grab the next hug once Emily was done.

“What are you doing here, Lydia? Is this about your old job?”

“It is, actually,” she replied as she stepped away.

The next person in line was Spencer. They hugged quickly so that they could keep up the act that they hadn’t seen one another for most of the past few months.

“Welcome back,” he said simply and she gave him a quick ‘thanks’.

“Sugar!” Garcia squealed, piling onto the already large group of people on the second level.

“Hi, Spice,” Lydia mumbled with her face already buried in the girl’s shoulder.

“Alright, now that we’ve all said hi, Lydia and I have some things to discuss and you all, I’m positive, have work to do,” Hotch interrupted. “I’m sure you all can catch up a little later. Like,  _ off  _ work hours.”

“That’s fine with me,” Morgan responded. “Want to meet up at a bar after work?”

Lydia nodded, as did most of the group. “Text me when and where.”

They all wandered off, buzzing with excitement to see their old friend once more.

~ ~ ~

“They didn’t kill me,” she sighed, finally leaving the BAU that evening with Spencer.

“I told you,” he laughed. “Hotch wasn’t about to let you get away again. He really missed your help this past year. And the team loves you.”

“What’s Rossi like?” she inquired.

“He’s distant. Still getting used to the team. Have you read any of his books?”

She shrugged. “He writes books?”

Spencer’s face lit up almost immediately. “Yeah! He’s a great author! He talks about how he helped create the Behavioral Analysis Unit and the cases he would work and-”

Lydia giggled, listening intently as Spencer raved on about his new coworker. She couldn’t wait to get back on the job.

~ ~ ~

“What do we know?” Rossi demanded as Lydia and Spencer ran into the waiting room behind him.

Spence had just gotten back from a case and was visiting Lydia when they both got texts from Hotch that Garcia was in the hospital. She’d been shot and was currently in surgery.

“Police think it was a botched robbery,” Hotch explained.

JJ was standing next to him and Emily came in behind the couple.

“Where’s Morgan?” she inquired.

JJ shook her head. “He’s not answering his cell.”

“I’ll call him again,” Spencer offered, stepping away from everyone.

Lydia’s leg was bouncing at her side to help release her energy. Everyone was stressed beyond compare. JJ tried to talk to the nurses, but got nothing and Spencer tried Morgan’s number multiple times and came up empty. Hotch and Rossi were whispering something between themselves. Emily squeezed Lydia’s arm comfortingly.

As the minutes passed without word, the team slowly migrated into chairs. Everyone was exhausted and the night was slowly transitioning into morning.

The whole group turned in unison as Morgan stumbled into the room, looking around wildly.

“She’s been in surgery a couple hours,” JJ told him.

“I was at church. My phone was off.”

“There’s nothing you could have been doing here,” Spencer reassured, but he still looked distraught.

“The police got any leads?”

“I spoke to the lead detective,” Hotch said. “He doesn’t think we’ll get anything from the scene.”

“Penelope Garcia?” a doctor called, entering the room. Everyone stood up, circling the poor man like vultures. “The bullet went in her chest and ricocheted into her abdomen. She lost a lot of blood. It was touch-and-go for a while, but we were able to repair the injuries.”

“So, what are you saying?” JJ asked.

“One centimeter over and it would have torn right through her heart. Instead, she could actually walk out of here in a couple of days. I’d say that’s a minor miracle. She needs her rest. You can see her in the morning.”

Relief consumed the team, most of them too happy to speak, but JJ and Emily thanked the doctor as he left.

“David and I will go to the scene,” Hotch offered. “I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don’t care about protocol. I don’t care whether we’re working this officially or not. We don’t touch any new cases until we find out who did this.”

They nodded, watching the two men leave. Slowly, they settled back into their seats. Spencer sat next to Lydia, leaning in her direction without actually touching her. She wished she could comfort him more, but she didn’t want him to also be anxious about the team watching them, so she held back.

~ ~ ~

“Hi,” Garcia mumbled as the five of them entered. “No tears. I’m afraid if I start crying, I’ll come unstapled.”

“How are you feeling?” Morgan asked.

“Confused…” Her voice was soft and Lydia wondered if she was too far to hear some words or if Garcia wasn’t saying them at all. “Stupid, and… in pain.”

“Are you up for some questions?” JJ began, hesitantly.

“I never saw it coming. He seemed… deliciously normal.”

Spencer looked up. “You know him?”

She nodded and turned to Morgan again. “You were right. I shouldn’t have trusted it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s that guy I told you about. The one I met at the coffee shop.” As she spoke, Garcia’s eyes wandered away from her friends. Lydia didn’t know what had happened, but she seemed embarrassed. “I wanted to believe he was interested in me.”

“Forget that,” Morgan started but she wasn’t giving up.

“I let my guard down.”

“Do you have any idea why he would have done this?” Emily asked.

“Did he threaten you? Did he want something?” Spencer continued.

“I just thought he liked me,” she responded, her breathing speeding up.

JJ, catching onto her stress, immediately started ushering them from the room. “Ok, um… We’re gonna- We’re gonna come back in a little while-”

“We need a name,” Emily interrupted softly.

“James Colby Baylor,” Garcia complied.

Emily got to work, writing it down and stepping away from the bed to call Hotch, with Morgan, Reid, and Lydia following her.

Once they were outside, Morgan’s hands went to the back of his head, the tension in his shoulders evident. In a swift move, he smacked a hand against the wall across from him.

“You need to stay calm,” Spencer instructed, not even blinking at his outburst.

“Don’t tell me what to be,” he snapped.

Spencer bit down on his lips, glancing at the startled Lydia before continuing. “Do you remember anything she said about him?”

“No.”

“I just talked to Hotch,” Emily said, stepping back into their circle. “They think he used a revolver.”

“Who the hell uses a revolver?” Morgan argued.

Spencer crossed his arms. “Someone who doesn’t want to leave shell casings behind as evidence.”

“What about witnesses?”

“None so far,” Emily continued. “And he staged it to look like a robbery.”

“Which means if he’s smart enough to use forensic countermeasures, odds are the name he gave Garcia is fake,” Lydia offered. She wanted to be of service to them, but there really wasn’t anything for her to do.

“What did she say?” Spencer asked, drawing everyone’s attention to JJ, who was exiting Garcia’s room.

“She made me promise not to talk about her like a victim.”

It hurt to know that Garcia was going through something similar to any one of their cases. They tried not to be obvious, but they all glanced at her, thinking about how hard it must have been to ask that of JJ.

“I’m going to head back to headquarters and help Hotch and Rossi set up a profile for this guy,” Emily offered.

“I’ll go with you,” JJ said. “I should be there to keep in contact with the police. Will you three be okay here?”

Lydia nodded quickly and Spencer and Morgan did the same. Lydia wished she could be of more help, but she knew that the case ahead wasn’t one for her. So, being an outside help for Garcia, especially as the one other team member who wasn’t an agent, was the only thing she could provide.

“I asked her to go out with me last night,” Morgan mumbled once they were alone. “But she was pissed at me. She blew me off.”

“Why was she pissed?” Lydia asked.

“She’d met that guy and she thought he was suspicious because guys don’t normally ask her out on the first meeting. I tried to tell her to trust her gut, but I messed it all up and she thought that I was agreeing that she was unattractive.”

“So you ended up in church?” Spencer continued.

“Yeah…” He looked between the two of them. “What does it mean? On one hand, if she’d gone out with me, she’d never have gotten shot. On the other hand… what are the odds that the first time I pray in twenty years, she’s on the table?”

“No offense, Derek,” Lydia said. “But if your God is going to hurt Garcia in order to send you a message, I don’t like him very much.”

“She’s asking for you,” a nurse told them as she exited Garcia’s room.

Lydia let the boys walk in first, ending up on either side of her, as she hovered at the end of her bed. Morgan put one of his hands on top of hers, rubbing it soothingly.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Good news, bad news.” Her voice drifted off as she spoke, then came back stronger, as if she was desperately fighting the urge to sleep. “The morphine’s wearing off… When I was in the ambulance, I could hear the song ‘Heroes’ playing in my head. I kept flashing in and out of consciousness. Everything was really bright. And I remember thinking, ‘Wait, is David Bowie really God?’”

Spencer smiled. Lydia, of course, loved Garcia with all her heart, but she didn’t know her as well as a lot of the team did. So, seeing her boyfriend listen to her carefully and worry for her made the interaction that much more bittersweet. She was glad Garcia had made it out okay. Not just for her sake, but for Spencer’s.

~ ~ ~

For four days, Lydia was in and out of the hospital, listening to the team question Garcia about the date. And still they had very little to go on. Then, one afternoon, when she and Morgan were visiting, Hotch stormed into the room, asking about an encrypted file.

Garcia had been suspended from her job. The Bureau was investigating her as a potential security risk, thinking she was hiding information from them. She gave up the password freely, but internal affairs had ordered the team to stop working the case as they did a full investigation on Penelope.

The minute Hotch left, Garcia started panicking, trying to get out of her bed. Morgan went to stop her, but she wouldn’t have any of it. She wanted to go home. She wanted to fix this.

Lydia insisted that she walk around the room a little, before deciding to go home.

“They don’t trust me,” Garcia said. “The Bureau doesn’t.”

“Why’s that?” Lydia asked as she watched her pace, trying to judge how much pain she was in.

“After my parents died, I… I kind of went off the rails for a while,” she admitted. “I dropped out of CalTech. I lived underground, basically. But I kept teaching myself code. It was like the one thing that kept me together… I got into some trouble and the Bureau told me that if I didn’t want to go to prison for what I’d done, I’d have to work for them.”

“It’s like Frank Abagnale,” Lydia said. “The Bureau figured if you can’t beat ‘em, hire ‘em.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Something like that.”

“Garcia, what’s on the encrypted file?” Morgan asked.

She picked at her fingernails, nervously. “I’m required to keep a record of everything the team does. And after my system got hacked and Elle got shot, I just didn’t want anybody else to be able to get at you.”

It was a sweet sentiment, one that Lydia wished she could enjoy more. But given the circumstances, she worried that Garcia might lose her job in a vain attempt to protect their privacy.

“I’m gonna talk to the doctor and see if he’ll clear you to leave,” Lydia offered, before stepping out of the room.

~ ~ ~

That night ended up going down as one of the most eventful ones in Lydia’s life. Morgan took Garcia home that evening and a few hours later, he called up Lydia to tell her that their unsub came back to try and finish the job. Garcia was unharmed, but the police officer guarding her house had been killed.

Half the team stuck around at her house, helping her hack into her system at work and try to find out how this guy knew her.

His real name was Jason Clark Battle. He was what the BAU profiled as an ‘angel of death’. He’d been killing people in driveby shootings, so that he would always be the closest officer at important scenes and people would consider him a hero. Garcia had flagged three of his cases, hoping that the police departments would keep looking into the killings and give closure to the families of the victims and she didn’t even realize that he’d been the responding officer at all the scenes. But he saw her flags and thought she was investigating him. And so, he was determined to get rid of her.

As they were trying to locate Battle’s whereabouts, Garcia found a suspicious link in her system, which she determined to be sent from the analyst looking into her from internal affairs. He’d given them access to the cameras inside the bullpen and, low and behold, Battle was in the BAU.

By the time they’d gotten there, JJ had shot Battle through the head.

Slowly, the group drifted off into smaller pieces, Garcia talking to JJ, Morgan with Hotch and Rossi, and Lydia, Spencer, and Emily all watching a team carry away the body.

“I really hope we don’t get called in for another case anytime soon,” Emily sighed. “I need some sleep after this.”

“I know,” Lydia agreed. “I haven’t even been reinstated into the Bureau and I’m already questioning whether it was a good idea.”

“It is,” Spencer said, grabbing both the girls’ attention. “We need you.”

He stepped away from the two of them, Lydia watching him join Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi across the room. She was so distracted by his words, that she startled when Emily spoke up from behind her.

“He really cares about you.”

Lydia flipped around, taking a moment to remember that Emily thought Reid had a crush on her. “What makes you say that?” she inquired, playing off her amusement.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but I hope you know that when you left, he was a mess.”

Lydia knew that was in huge part related to the drug abuse, but still, hearing it from Emily’s mouth made her heart swell at the thought. Even when they weren’t together, Spencer cared about her enough that others noticed.

“We’re okay now,” she promised Emily. “We may have gone through some shit, but we’ve come out the other end.”

“I imagine you two always will.”


	19. True Night (S3E10)

“No!” Lydia exclaimed, trying to push Spencer’s hand out of the direction of the cashier. They’d decided to go out to lunch together on his day off. Lydia had just passed her gun qualifications test, which meant that soon enough she’d be back in the field and Spencer wanted to celebrate. “You can’t pay again!”

“You just finished graduate school and I work a fulltime job,” he argued. “I’m paying.”

The woman behind the counter laughed slightly and grabbed Spencer’s credit card before Lydia could push it aside again. “I gotta agree with him, hun. Little things like lunches add up when you’re trying to pay off student debt.”

“But what of my ‘Spencer’ debt?” she replied.

The woman just giggled. “You two are adorable, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Lydia smiled at her and ran off to find a table, leaving Spencer to mumble an awkward ‘thank you’ before following her. He wanted to appreciate the compliment more, but it threw him for a loop. He’d recently been thinking a lot about how he and Lydia acted around others and, more importantly, the team.

Spencer never imagined being a part of such a strong relationship. He’d never thought he’d be so comfortable with another person that they’d tease each other at a cafe or that strangers would find their behavior adorable. And after his first date with Lydia, he knew he’d do anything to get to this point.

Not telling the team was an attempt to protect his fragile heart. It had already gone against his common sense by falling for Lydia in the first place. But now… he loved her so much. He would let her break his heart into a million pieces, then leave it on the floor for the team to step on as they walked past. He would happily let the whole world know if it meant he could hold her hand on the jet. He might even consider letting the Bureau fire him for keeping secrets from them, just so long as the two of them were together.

_ But was it fair to ask of her? After she spent so long protecting their secret for his sake? _

“What’s up, Spencer?” Lydia asked. He’d just reached the table, but had yet to sit down with her, instead looking out the window with unwavering concentration.

“Hm…?” he responded, still not processing her concern, so she grabbed one of his hands and pulled him into his seat.

“Tell me what’s got you distracted,” she demanded.

His eyes went from the window, to her, to the window again, trying to make up his mind.

“I can’t stand this secrecy thing!” he finally blurted out. “I thought it’d be fine because I’m a great liar and- Why are you laughing?!”

She tried to hide her smile behind her hand, but it wasn’t exactly easy to play off a laugh. “Sorry. I just think you’re  _ so  _ modest,” she replied, sarcastically. “Please, continue though. You’re a ‘great liar’ and…”

He was clearly not expecting this reaction from her. “And… And well, I just… don’t want to lie about this anymore,” he admitted. “I want to be able to talk to you in the office without raising suspicions. And I want to hug you and hold your hand without worrying that someone we know will see us.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“...okay?” He blinked. “You aren’t upset that  _ I’m  _ the one to-?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re okay with us just-?”

“Yep.”

_ Wow…  _ he  _ really  _ hadn’t expected this reaction from her.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“Spencer, I honestly don’t care. But are you sure? Because having a girlfriend is going to open you up to a lot of teasing from the team,” she warned him.

He waved an arm dismissively. “I can take them.”

She raised an eyebrow, watching him relax back into his normal self.  _ It’s silly,  _ she thought, _ the things that make him anxious. _ But she was relieved it wasn't anything serious. The thing with Spencer was sometimes the little things seemed huge and the big things he thought he could handle alone.

“So, we’re going to do this?” he confirmed.

“We’ll start with Hotch,” she reasoned. “And see what sort of agreements we’d have to make to be in an office relationship. Then, we can decide how to announce it to the rest of the team.”

He agreed, a smile spreading across his features. “It’s stupid, but I feel like I won’t be able to wait that long. Even after all the time we’ve already spent pretending there was nothing between us. I feel like I’m going to see you in the bullpen one day and just kiss you in front of everyone.”

She rolled her eyes jokingly. “You’ll be fine. If I see you going in for a kiss I’ll dodge.”

The image of her ducking away from his affection in the middle of the office had them both cracking up and they had to recover quickly so they wouldn’t get kicked out of the place.

~ ~ ~

They had planned on telling Hotch Friday morning, but Lydia ended up being called into the office for a case before that could happen. And it happened to be so severe that she was on a flight to Los Angeles before she really knew what had happened.

“You should have listened to me,” Spencer argued as Morgan, Lydia, and him got out of the SUV and onto the street. As she walked, her arm hit the holster on her belt multiple times, not used to having the bulky object at her hip.

“It wouldn’t have saved that much time, Reid,” Morgan snapped. “Let it go.”

“The interchange between the 405 and the 101 freeways is consistently rated the worst interchange in the entire world.”

Morgan took in a large breath. “Why do you know that?!” he accused.

“It’s a government report.”

Lydia burst out laughing.

“So, what?” Morgan cried.

“So, you work for the government,” Reid continued. “What, you don’t read the reports?”

As they argued, the three of them walked underneath the tape and onto the scene itself.

“On traffic patterns in a city 2500 miles from where I live?”

“2295 miles-”

“Don’t make me smack you in front of all these people.”

“Derek, you know not to estimate around Reid,” Lydia teased. “He doesn’t understand anything but the specifics.”

“I understand th-”

“I’m Brady, LAPD,” a man said, cutting Spencer off from defending himself.

“Derek Morgan,” the older man greeted, shaking his hand, then pointing to the other two. “Dr. Reid and Dr. Ambers. The rest of the team is in an SUV behind us.”

“Yeah. Stuck in traffic,” Reid snapped, looking at Morgan before realizing now wasn’t the time. “Uh, so you had two more victims last night?”

“They were discovered a little after 3:30 by a cleaning crew finishing up in the building,” Brady explained.

“So that’s seven victims over the past two weeks,” Morgan said and the detective nodded.

“Bodies are in the alley. What’s left of them.”

“Same victimology?” Spencer asked as Lydia stepped past them, pulling out a pair of gloves.

All they could determine about the kill method was that their unsub was using a bladed weapon. Something long, like a machete or sword, which wasn’t very common. During the flight, they’d determined they were looking for one guy, suffering from a psychotic break. It was the only way to explain the overkill, the locations, and the weapon. But it was hard to look at the victims and imagine one guy could have done this.

Both men were mutilated. Their chests had been sliced through multiple times, making their torsos look almost hollow. One’s arm was multiple feet from the body. The other had almost been separated at the waist.

Blood was splattered across the buildings surrounding them and it flowed from the bodies into a nearby sewer grate. At this point, both men were practically dried up.

“What do you see?” Morgan asked as he stepped up behind her.

“Same type of victim. It’s either gang retaliation or someone who wants to clean up the streets.”

“That’s too organized,” he argued. “Unsubs that are going through psychotic breaks don’t plan like that.”

“Well, clearly there’s a pattern here,” she argued, pointing to their hoodies, tattoos, chains, and clothing. “He’s not killing businessmen or waitresses or anything in between. He’s got vengeance on his mind.”

~ ~ ~

“Not good,” Lydia mumbled as she walked onto the next scene the following day.

The unsub had actually gone to the house of the gang leader, Glen Hill. There were 6 bodies, each more brutal than the last.

She stepped around the scene carefully, the blood pooling around the victims like auras.

“T.S.K.?” Hotch asked, pointing to the graffitied letters on the walls.

“Twenty-third street killers,” Brady informed them.

Rossi picked up a gun. “Looks like they tried to fight back.”

“They failed,” Spencer said.

It was hard to differentiate the blood with the spray paint splattered against the walls, but Lydia did her best to analyze the drops and determine where the victims had been standing when they were hit.

“So, what do we do now?” the detective demanded.

“We’re already doing it,” Rossi informed him.

“An unsub in a psychotic rage stands out,” Spencer explained.

“Agent Jareau’s got the media playing the press conference every hour,” Hotch continued. “She’s putting the profile out to the public. Someone in this man’s world knows he’s in crisis. Hopefully, they'll recognize the description.”

“Hotch,” Emily called from the next room. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Lydia was on his tail, following Prentiss out back, where a small trail of blood was leading from the door, to the side gate, then disappearing on the sidewalk. From the marks in the grass, it looked like a body had been dragged. Not only were they looking at 6 murders, but a kidnapping as well.

~ ~ ~

By that afternoon, they were bringing a suspect into custody. A man named Jon McHale. He was a graphic novelist, who’d been attacked by Glen Hill’s gang a few months ago, resulting in the death of his girlfriend.

A few people had shown up to the station to explain situations they’d been in with him over the past few days. His manager was concerned for his health, saying that he kept calling Vickie, his dead girlfriend. Some of his fans had watched him flip out when he showed up to a book signing. And one dude hit him with his car when he ran out into the middle of the road and when the man went to check if he was okay, Jon almost choked him to death.

As they took him into the station, Lydia helped Hotch and Rossi bag items from his apartment to be used as evidence. He had all sorts of violent storyboards, some which reflected their crime scenes to a T. There wasn’t a doubt in their minds that they’d found their guy.

“Can you go get the mugshot of Glen Hill?” Hotch asked Emily as they got back to the station.

“Yeah,” she replied, dropping the boxes of drawings on a nearby desk and disappearing.

Hotch turned on her. “Lydia, did Gideon talk to you about speaking to unsubs undergoing a psychotic break?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I want you running point with him. Command his presence like Frank. Keep him on track. We’ll get answers.”

Hotch left to explain the plan to the detective, leaving her to prepare herself for the interview. Gideon warned her that it was difficult to talk to unsubs like Jonny. His trauma was causing him to do things he’d otherwise be disgusted by. Before all of this, he was a good person and without the mental fracturing, he still would be. But the only way to get answers from him would be to put him under complete stress.

Lydia handed her weapon to Spencer, giving him a small wave goodbye. He looked nervous, but she didn’t dwell on it. Her only concern now was speaking with Jonny.

She led in the group, dropping the mug shot of Glen Hill that Emily had printed in front of the young man, then sitting across from him at the table. “Hello, Jonny. My name’s Lydia,” she said, curtly. “Do you know who that is?”

He shook his head. “Why does this have anything to do with me?”

“That’s Glen Hill,” Hotch said to her left.

Rossi took the right. “He’s missing.”

“You think I know where he is?” Jonny demanded.

Emily walked in, setting one of the boxes from his apartment down in front of Lydia.

“Six months ago, he and his gang victimized you and your girlfriend, right?” Brady asked.

Jonny’s head dashed wildly between everyone in the room, trying to keep track of them. “What?”

Lydia snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Jonny, look at me.”

“They attacked you on the street,” Emily continued, grabbing his attention once more.

“No.”

“And you couldn’t identify any of them after you got out of the hospital,” Brady said.

“Look at me,” Lydia insisted once more. She knew that the feeling of being surrounded was freaking him out enough. With everyone making accusations, if she made it seem like he wasn’t allowed to answer them, it would drive him even more insane. “Don’t worry about him.”

“This is crazy,” he said, looking at the photos in front of him. She could hear his handcuffs rustling against the table. He was trying to break away from her.

“I believe you're suffering from a post-traumatic form of a psychotic break,” Hotch told him, setting his hands on the table to lean over him and feel imposing.

“Psychotic?”

“And you have been for weeks.”

“Come on.”

“It’s possible you don’t even know,” Rossi said, once again forcing Jonny to turn fully around and look at him.

“How could I not know?”

Emily set down a storyboard in front of him. It showed two figures, mutilated in an alleyway, their killer standing above them with a sword. The whole scene was black and white, except for the pure red blood that ran down the gutters and towards the sidewalk.

“That’s a page from something I’m working on,” he told them.

“We know,” Lydia said, letting Emily drop another picture in front of him, this time an above shot from the scene she’d arrived on yesterday. “This is a murder scene from two nights ago.” She pointed between the bodies, both laid out in the same fashion. “Are you seeing any similarities?”

“You were there,” Rossi claimed. “Yesterday. I talked to you.”

“We have photos of you,” Emily continued.

He shook his head, pointing at the picture with his free hand. “Wait. This is real?”

“These are members of the twenty-third street killers,” Brady said. “Glen Hill’s gang.”

Emily continued setting out photos, one of Hill’s house, the other a matching drawing of McHale’s.

“And there were six gang members murdered in that house last night,” Hotch explained.

“No. No, this can’t be. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“This house belongs to Glen Hill. There was a trail of blood leading out the back door. We believe that you took Mr. Hill with you when you left.”

“These are just drawing-- my imagination,” Jonny argued.

Rossi sighed. “Severe PTSD is not uncommon for victims of violent crimes.”

“Victims?”

“You’re bleeding,” Emily noticed, pointing to a spot on the left side of his ribcage.

“It looks like a grazing gunshot wound,” Rossi accused

Hotch leaned over him threateningly. “Did they shoot you last night?”

“Look, stop it! I would know if I’d been… a victim!”

“Do you remember being in the hospital?”

“I was never-” The sound of his handcuffs got louder as his stress level increased. He was pulling away from them.

Rossi threw down a file in front of him, flipping through it as he talked. “That’s your medical report. They cut you open, Mr. McHale! You were nearly eviscerated.” He lifted up the boy's shirt to reveal a long scar through his abdomen. “They said it was a miracle you lived.” 

“Miracle?” he demanded. “You think living was a miracle?”

He was breaking. Put some more pressure on him, and they’d get their answers. Hotch and Rossi took over, throwing questions around back and forth.

“All your drawings reflect actual crime scenes. All of them but one.”

“Where is  _ this  _ crime scene, Jonny?”

“Is this Glen Hill?”

“Where is he? Where’s Glen Hill?”

“Jonny, look at me!” Lydia insisted one more time.

“No!” 

At his scream, Jonny finally ripped his right arm away from the table, splintering the bar the handcuffs were attached too. Noticing his escape, the whole room jumped to subdue him, but not fast enough. He got in a solid swing across Lydia’s face, knocking her back, her hands covering her cheek protectively.

“No! No!” he kept yelling. “You don’t know what’s out there! No one knows about the night!”

Hotch and Brady got ahold of Jonny’s arms, Emily pushing him back into the chair.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Jonny.”

“It’s okay, son,” Rossi tried to calm him. “It’s okay.”

They’d done it. He was remembering what had happened to him, what he’d done. But it didn’t make watching him any easier.

“Lydia,” Hotch called, not turning away from their suspect, “are you okay?”

“Yes, sir.” She stepped up, standing over Jonny, so that he could see her blotchy cheek and come to terms with what he’d done. “Jonny, you aren’t healthy.”

His eyes scanned her face, before he shut them tightly and started to sob. “I couldn’t help her.” He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He was talking about Vickie, his girlfriend. “They made me watch.”

“I can help you,” Rossi said. “If we can tell the court that you told us where Glen Hill is-”

“They made me watch!”

“I know. I know. They’re animals.”

“You were sick,” Hotch told him. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

The memory of his confrontation with Glen Hill was too much for Jonny. He could barely speak.

“Where’s Glen Hill, Jonny?”

He sobbed, his body shaking for several minutes, before he broke, giving the address to the group. Emily dashed outside to find Glen Hill, but they all knew he was dead. There was no way Jonny would have been able to stop himself from completing his revenge.

Brady started to recuff Jonny, taking him out of the interrogation room and into a holding cell, Hotch on his tail. Rossi stayed behind to help Lydia pack up all the evidence they’d used during the interview.

“You’re good,” he complimented. “Sorry you got the short end of the stick today.”

“It’s fine.” Lydia rubbed her jaw, sorely. “I deserved it.”

“For what?”

She shrugged, grabbing the box and starting to leave. “I know we had to break him. But no one deserves to relive traumatic events against their will.”

“You sound as if you speak from experience.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “It’s not really fair to profile someone who can’t profile you back, hm?” Then, she stepped outside and came face to face with Spencer.

“What did he do to you?” Spencer demanded, his hand already reaching for her swelling cheek.

“It’s fine,” she breezed, hearing Rossi exit the room behind her. “He had a mean right hook. I antagonized him.”

“I’ll get you some ice,” he said, leaving before she could argue.

“Maybe it isn’t fair,” Rossi mumbled from behind her. “But you make it so easy.”

Lydia just laughed at him.

~ ~ ~

“You found one of Jonny McHale’s books?” Lydia asked as she sat across from Spencer on the jet. She still had an ice pack pressed against her cheek at his insistence and the whole side of her face was starting to feel numb.

He looked up from his graphic novel. “Yeah! It’s called  _ Blue _ . It’s about a girl who thinks she’s a real human being, right? But it turns out she’s a robot that was built by her uncle.”

“So it’s  _ Pinocchio, _ ” JJ reasoned as she passed the two of them.

“Yeah, it is like  _ Pinocchio _ ,” he laughed. “Only, uh, it’s set in a high school in outer space.”

She made an amused face and kept going, sitting with Rossi and Emily.

Spencer turned back to her, that special sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, did you know that Carlo Lorenzini, the guy that wrote  _ Pinocchio, _ was said to be obsessed with the human nose? As a matter of fact, Pinocchio wasn’t even the first character of his to feature a large nose- How’s your cheek doing?”

She chuckled, having seen his sudden change in topic from a mile away. “It’s fine. It will probably be nice and swollen by the time we get back.” She pulled the ice pack away to reveal a splotchy pink and purple mess. “What’s your analysis, doctor?”

He leaned forward, examining it teasingly. “Hm… Looks like quite the injury. You must be very brave, doctor.”

They laughed until they heard Morgan walking past, talking irritably into his phone. “Just leave it alone until I get there. Hey. Hey! Hard-head! Don’t make me spank you when I get back.”

Spencer, who had already stuck his nose back into the graphic novel, immediately spoke up so that the person on the other line could hear him. “Don’t listen to him, Garcia. He’s all talk.”

Instinctively, Morgan smacked him across the back of the head and kept walking.

“Ow!” Spencer cried over Lydia’s laughs. “Stop laughing! He just hit me.”

Lydia handed him the ice pack. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “Why don’t you put some ice on it and it will feel better?”

“I hate you,” he grumbled.

~ ~ ~

Once they were back at headquarters, Lydia told Spencer it was now or never. Nodding her head, she ran up the catwalk to Hotch’s office, slipping inside casually.

“Lydia? How may I help you?”

She held up a finger and they stood there silently until Spencer also walked through the door, shutting it behind him awkwardly.

“Reid? What’s this about?”

Lydia stood in front of his desk, clasping her hands behind her back. “This is where we tell you something you already know and you act surprised about it.”

“Got it.”

“...We’re dating.”

“I’m shocked,” he responded, completely deadpanned.

“Is there some kind of office relationship… whatever that we need to fill out?”

“You don’t work in this office, Lydia, so not exactly. But you do work for the Bureau which means they have to know. I’ll do some research into it and get back to you. My best guess is Garcia will have to put it into our system and you might be required to agree to certain terms. At worst, they might have someone come in to question you and determine whether or not your relationship will affect your ability to work together, but I doubt it, seeing as Lydia isn’t an agent.”

“Thank you,” Lydia breathed. “I was worried this would be a big mess.”

“I think Reid here was ten times more nervous.”

She smirked at her abnormally silent boyfriend. He was completely frozen, staring at Hotch with a pale face. “I believe he was.”

“I should warn you,” Hotch continued, “that if this had been going on for much longer than two weeks, you could get in trouble for hiding pertinent information from the Bureau.”

“Two weeks, then,” Lydia said.

“Two weeks,” Spencer repeated.

“Good.” Hotch looked down at the file on his desk. There was silence. Then, he furled his eyebrow, glancing back up at the two of them. “You’re free to go.”

“Right,” Spencer squeaked, grabbing Lydia’s hand and pulling her to the door, as if Hotch would change his mind if they stayed any longer. “Going.”


	20. 3rd Life (S3E12)

“Have you ID’d the body?” Hotch asked as they got out of their SUVs and onto the scene.

Two teenage girls, Katie and Lindsey, had gone missing from Chula Vista, California almost a day ago and the police had just called them in after a body was uncovered during a search party. It’d been there for 5 hours and supposedly was extremely gruesome.

“It’s a girl,” the detective confirmed.

“One of the missing girls?” Hotch specified.

“All I can tell you, is it’s a girl.”

“Did you draw up a list of those involved in the search?” Morgan inquired.

The team had to dodge police cars, officers, and bystanders to reach the yellow tape and see the grave they had uncovered.

“You’re gonna find the parents of those girls on that list.”

“Please tell me they didn’t discover the body,” Emily huffed.

“No. As soon as our dogs caught her scent, we kept them away from the scene.”

They all stepped over the edge of the pit, looking down on the body. It was positioned awkwardly, as if thrown down there. Any exposed skin was coated in a layer of blood, followed by a layer of dirt. And the face wasn't just covered, it was completely gone.

Lydia’s stomach churned at the sight, but she swallowed it down, stepping carefully into the grave and closer to the body, her gloves coming out instinctually.

She took her time to examine the body, finally speaking up when Emily and Spencer broke away from the team to look with her.

“The bruises had time to develop,” she explained, pointing to the discoloration on the skin they could see. “Her hands and face were cut up in layers. And from the indentations on her neck, she was strangled to death with a belt.”

“The bindings cut deep into her flesh,” Spencer noted.

“But why destroy her hands and face?” the detective asked from behind Emily.

“It indicates she knew the attacker,” she told him. “They think if we’re able to identify her, we’ll be closer to catching them.”

“Do you think the other girl’s still alive?”

“Until we find her body,” Rossi said, “we should assume she is.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia sighed, stepping into an abandoned house. The carpet was littered with blood stains, beer bottles and cans, cigarettes, money, shoes. The amount of evidence their unsubs left behind was astounding.

Throughout the day, they’d come to two discoveries. The first was that the body uncovered belonged to Katie Owen. And the second was that their other kidnapped girl, Lindsey Vaughan, wasn’t actually named Lindsey Vaughan.

Her and her father, Jack, were in witness protection after he’d been caught as part of the Boston mob. And if someone had figured them out, Lindsey was in much more trouble than they thought.

“Katie’s cell phone,” Emily said as she lifted up a small, pink object.

“Two different sets of footprints,” Morgan noted. “So, two unsubs.”

“Jack said there’d be two of them,” the detective offered.

“Hotch,” Lydia called. “We’re gonna need to pack up all of this. There’s DNA all over this scene.”

“For professionals, this is incredibly sloppy,” Emily stated and Lydia nodded.

“There’s no way. The mob does their job and moves on. They’ve been hanging out here, drinking… whoever’s doing this, they’re doing it for fun, not work.”

Emily picked up a belt. “This could have been the belt used to strangle Katie.”

“If they’re sending a message, why obliterate the ID and hide the body?” Rossi asked.

“So this has nothing to do with the mob?” The detective looked between them, baffled.

“Hey, guys,” Morgan called. “This blood trail goes all the way out the back here. Must have run out this way.”

The team followed them into the backyard and out of a broken section in the fence.

“Whoever it was,” Emily began, “they lost a lot of blood.”

“It’s getting thinner,” Lydia noticed. “It’s an arterial bleed. This person couldn’t have made it far on their own.”

Eventually, the trail disappeared, with no body nearby. “Okay,” Hotch said. “Spread out. Search the grounds and every house.”

The team had their guns out a moment later, splitting off. The whole area was under construction, meaning they could walk freely in and out of the houses, but at the same time, so could their unsubs. An entire house to themselves is a lot of cover.

Lydia followed Hotch, knowing that searching for suspects alone wasn’t in her job description. And the FBI was one of the only jobs where doing more than you were asked is frowned upon. She’d been told that more than once.

As they walked, she pulled at her vest, frustratedly, with one hand, the other still on her weapon.

“You haven’t told the team of your relationship yet,” he mumbled back to her.

“Spencer wants it to come up naturally one day. Too bad he doesn’t really do fluid conversation. I decided a long time ago that that’s his business,” she admitted. “He knows the team better. If he wants them to know, he should tell them.”

“I understand that, but don’t give up your free will to please him. Reid will understand.”

She chuckled. “I know. I promise though, I don’t mind either way.”

They went silent after that, Hotch approaching the closest house. Lydia held her gun at the ready, checking behind them constantly her eyes bouncing from door to door. The two of them made their way upstairs and stopped dead in their tracks to find a small puddle of blood. Hotch indicated she should wait in the hallway, before kicking his way into the room.

He stopped, standing in the door and just looking at whatever was before him, then said into his com, “Guys, the last house on the left house, second floor. I’ve got something.”

As soon as he lowered his gun, Lydia put hers away and walked into the room to find a body on the floor. It belonged to a boy, likely no older than their missing girls were.

“You know that I’m not a forensic anthropologist, right?” Lydia grumbled as she knelt down to examine whoever this poor kid was.

“Lydia, you’re the closest thing we’ve got,” he argued.

“My PhD is in chemistry,” she continued, ignoring him.

There was blood all the way down the front of his body: shirt, pants, dripping from his mouth, etc. He had three stab wounds in his chest. His eyes were already foggy and distant. Across his face and arms were scratch marks. And there was a bite mark on his right hand.

Next to him was an open cell phone, which she reached for after throwing on a glove, but it was dead.

Lydia stood up and showed it to Hotch. “You think this is one of our unsubs?” she asked knowingly.

“He’s got defensive wounds. They have to be from Katie or Lindsey.”

“Well…” She glanced at the boy. “He’s not part of the mob.”

“We’re well past that,” Hotch murmured.

Rossi was the first to arrive on the scene and they explained their findings.

“At some point for him, things got out of hand and he wanted out,” Rossi reasoned. “He makes a run for it and gets stabbed in the process. It’s dark. They can’t find him.”

“They think he’s gone to the police and they have to think fast, so they take Katie and they dump her across town.”

“And to maintain some amount of control, they take Lindsey.”

Lydia looked between the two older men. “So… where did his friends run off to?”

~ ~ ~

The station was in a panic as news broke out that Jack Vaughan had escaped his protective custody agent and was on the hunt for the boys who took his daughter.

Garcia had identified their dead kid as Doug Silverman, a student at the same high school as Katie and Lindsey. Jack had claimed he’d never seen the boy before, but his sudden disappearance seemed to suggest otherwise.

The whole team was on the streets, trying to find Jack, except for Lydia and Spencer. Spencer was marking up his map, frustratedly, trying to determine where the boys might have taken Lindsey.

The only lead they had was a boy named Ryan Phillips. They were pretty sure he was the leader of the group they were looking for. But there was no way he would have taken Lindsey to his house, so it meant very little that they knew his name.

“You’ve got to find him, fast,” the witness protection agent insisted.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Spencer hissed.

“Coloring in a map!”

Lydia got between them immediately, so that Spencer could work in peace. “We’ve got people all over town looking for  _ your  _ witness when we should be focused on saving Lindsey. You’re clearly much more helpful when you’re sitting on your ass doing nothing.”

“What the hell is your problem?!” he shot back, but they were both interrupted by an officer walking in, letting them know that there had been reports of shots being fired on Jackson St.

The agent left with him, anxious to find Jack.

“Got it!” Spencer cried, pulling out his phone and dialing up Hotch before Lydia could ask what he’d found. “After inputting all the sites, I’ve come up with a two-dimensional probability service overlay map that indicates the offenders’ operating area… I know it sounds crazy, but I think he’s taken her to the Mayford High School two blocks from here… Thanks.”

He was off a moment later, throwing on his kevlar vest and Lydia quickly doing the same.

“What are you doing?” he insisted. “You don’t go on raids.”

“The rest of the team’s too far away,” she replied. “You need backup.”

“Lydia, I’ll be fine.”

“Then, what’s the harm of me going?” She didn’t let him answer that. “Hotch gave me this gun specifically because he knew that one day I was going to follow someone into danger with or without it. I’m more prepared than I have been on cases before.”

“Stay behind me,” he told her, the two of them running outside and hopping into a police vehicle.

The car that Jack Vaughan had taken when he fled was abandoned by the side of the school. Spencer pulled up beside it and the two of them rushed to catch up with him, guns at the ready. If Jack really did have a gun and Ryan Phillips was inside, things were going to end badly.

They ran into a nearby hallway, Lydia checking the doors on the right, Spencer doing the same on the left. She stopped in her tracks, hearing muffled yells from inside a nearby bathroom.

“Kill him, Daddy! Kill him!”

Lydia nodded for Spencer to join her and on the count of three, she threw open the door and he rushed into the bathroom.

“Put the gun down!”

Lydia went around him and also trained her gun on Jack Vaughan. At some point, he’d acquired a shotgun, which he now had facing an older boy on the floor of the bathroom, with a split lip, who could only be presumed to be Ryan Phillips. Jack’s daughter, Lindsey, upon seeing them, stepped up next to her father, blocking their shot. Her hands were tied behind her back and there was dried blood around her mouth, but she seemed otherwise unharmed.

“Help me, please!” Ryan sobbed. “Please help me!”

“Jack, put down the gun!”

Lindsey glared at Reid before turning back to her father. "She begged him to stop and he laughed at her! He laughed at her!”

“I didn’t laugh at her! Honestly, I would change this if I could!”

“Lindsey,” Lydia tried to reason, “what good is killing him? Trust me, his sentence will be punishment enough, we’ll make sure of it.”

“Please,” Ryan kept pleading. “Don’t kill me.”

Spencer sounded exhausted, taking in a deep breath. “Jack, you swore to your wife that you’d protect Lindsey. Listen to her, Jack. Listen to what she wants. She’s-- She’s begging you to kill somebody right in front of her. What do you think your wife wanted you to protect her from?”

Lydia decided to try and plead with the girl again. “Lindsey, I know it may feel like killing him is the only just option. And I know it feels like that’s just how things work in your family. Being exposed to things like violence and murder at a young age can make them seem more understandable or natural than they are. But your father’s history doesn’t affect yours. If you tell your dad to shoot him, that will be your first kill. Do you really want a murder on your hands?”

“Jack, your life has been… It’s been about violence, and if… you do this, Lindsey’s will be, too. Do you want that?”

“Lindsey, your father hasn’t killed anyone in a long, long time. He’s proved to the government that he can be a good person. Do you want to take that away from him?” The girl wouldn’t even look at her. She was angry. Her mind was too clouded by her need for revenge. If they were going to stop Jack from pulling that trigger, it was up to Spencer now.

“When does it end, Jack?”

“Put down the gun,” Ryan cried and they could hear sirens approaching outside the school.

“ _ Kill him _ ,” Lindsey whispered.

“When does it stop?” Spencer continued.

Jack looked at Spencer, then Lydia, then his daughter. Finally, he turned back to the pleading boy in front of him. “Tomorrow,” he growled and shot Ryan straight through the head.

Spencer’s face froze into one of pure shock, his gun falling to his side.

Neither Jack nor Lindsey said anything as Jack untied her arms and guided her out of the bathroom. As they passed though, Lydia could see the regret in both faces. They would never be the same after this.

Once they were out of the room, Lydia stepped in front of Spencer, blocking his view of the boy’s body.

“This is  _ not  _ your fault,” she said, firmly. “Ryan Phillips may not have deserved to die, but in the end, we did our jobs. We  _ saved  _ Lindsey.”

“I thought I could-”

She shushed him. “This is not on you,” she repeated. After a minute, Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi were rushing in, only to find Ryan Phillips’s brains all over the walls.

“You okay, Reid?” Morgan asked, seeing his friend’s distress.

Lydia looked up at Morgan. “I’m going to take him outside.” Then, she wrapped an arm around his waist and gently guided him out of the high school and onto a bench outside, pulling him into a hug for several minutes.

~ ~ ~

Spencer didn’t talk much on the trip back to headquarters, but stayed attached to Lydia’s side. After a while, he’d seemed to calm down a bit and reassured her that he would be fine. And then, asked that when they got back, they’d tell the team about their relationship.

After watching the two of them practically falling on top of one another for the whole flight back to DC, Lydia was pretty sure they already knew, but agreed quickly.

“Now or never,” Spencer whispered to her as they walked arm and arm into the bullpen, repeating her phrase from the day they’d told Hotch.

“Hey guys?” Lydia called to the team. “May we speak in the conference room real fast? Before everyone goes home?”

A couple of odd glances were shared between the agents, but they all nodded and shuffled onto the catwalk.

When Lydia and Spencer entered behind the group, the two were holding hands and no one had to say anything to know what the announcement would be.

“Spencer and I have been dating,” Lydia said, trying to save her boyfriend the embarrassment. But, Spencer smiled at the varying faces around the table.

Morgan looked absolutely appalled. Emily, JJ, and Rossi were pleased. And Hotch seemed relieved this conversation was finally out of the way.

So, Lydia continued, “This has been okayed by Hotch, but we avoided telling you guys for some time, because the Bureau obviously isn’t thrilled with the idea.”

JJ and Emily were quick to give their congratulations, the rest of the room silent.

“So… how long, then?” Morgan asked, as Spencer sat down at the round table.

“Have we been dating?” Lydia clarified.

“Yes… Come on,” he teased, seeing the two of them exchange an unsure look. “I know pretty boy’s got it memorized.”

“596 days,” Spencer snapped, clearly already fed up with the meddling. Too bad he was too frustrated to realize where he went wrong.

“Spence-!” Lydia squealed, both amused and nervous as Hotch’s head shot up. “Two weeks!”

It had been over two months since they’d told Hotch, but at that time, they’d promised him that they’d only been dating for two weeks, so that no one involved would get in trouble. Lydia could see the embarrassment flood Spencer’s face and he was sputtering to take it back.

“I knew it!” she cried, slamming her hands down on the conference room table in front of him. “I knew you’d be the one to break in the end! Mr. ‘I’m-such-a-great-liar’!” She laughed, mocking him as she sauntered around the room. “ _ ‘Let’s keep it a secret, Lydia!’ ‘They’ll never profile  _ me _ , Lydia!’ ‘Sure, half the team already thinks I’m in love with you, but if you even talk to me at work, you’re gonna give us away! Be careful, Lydia!’ _ ”

“I didn’t-”

“You totally did!”

The whole team watched their playful argument around the round table room, never seeing such a side from either one of them. They were so comfortable with one another, not to mention genuinely happy.

“That’s not fair!” Spencer was saying. “Garcia only teased me about it the one time and I never admitted anything! So the only person on the team who thought I was crushing is Emily!”

“ _ Emily _ knew?” Morgan turned on the dark-haired woman.

“How could you not!” she giggled. “Spencer is so pathetically romantic when it comes to Lydia.”

“I am not!”

“Guys,” Hotch said, sternly, catching the attention of the whole team. “Ambers and Reid have promised that their relationship would not affect anyone in the office and I expect the same from you. They’re a couple. That doesn’t change anything.”

“What?!” Morgan cried. “Doesn’t change anything?!? This is crazy! Does no one else find this crazy?!”

“Morgan,” Hotch tried again. “Please.”

There was silence, everyone’s eyes surveying the room, most amused at the situation. Finally, Morgan nodded.

“Good. Back to your desks. Ambers and Reid, my office.”

Spencer dropped his head onto the table dramatically.


	21. Elephant's Memory (S3E16)

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer said, speaking up for the first time on their drive.

“You’re proud of  _ me _ ?” she asked, startled.

“Yes,” he argued. “Look at you! You’ve got a car now. Twenty-four years old, teaching two college classes  _ and  _ working for the FBI.”

“I’m more proud of you!” she shot back. “A full year sober! I can’t imagine how difficult it has been for you.”

“Thank you for coming with me.” Spencer sunk slightly in the passenger seat.

After the death of Ryan Phillips in front of the two of them, Spencer had been struggling with his cravings again. He hadn’t relapsed, of course, but he was plagued by nightmares and a lack of motivation. When he admitted this to Lydia, she’d suggested he look up some support meetings nearby. Tonight was going to be his first time attending the Beltway Clean Cops group.

“I’m more than happy to come along!”

The two of them sat in the back of the room, listening calmly to different people talk about their situations. Spencer had just gotten the courage to take the stage when Lydia got a text from Hotch.

_ Briefing in 30. Can’t get ahold of Reid. Please tell him. _

Lydia dropped her head into her hands. Could it not wait just a few more moments? He had barely started speaking aloud and Lydia could see him trying to ignore the buzzing phone in his pocket.

“Hi. Uh… My name’s, uh, Spencer, and I’m uh… I don’t really know what I am.”

“Hello Spencer,” the crowd greeted.

“This is my- This is my first meeting,” he sputtered, his eyes locking with Lydia’s every few seconds. “I guess I, uh… I  _ know  _ I had a… a problem with Dilaudid, but… I stopped. My girlfriend helped me to stop about a year ago. I thought it was over, but recently I’ve really been… your literature uses the term ‘craving’. It started about a month ago. A- A suspect was murdered in front of me. A kid. And I thought that I could save that kid, but I couldn’t, and… Sorry.” He pulled out his phone, rejecting another call from their boss. “I’ve seen a lot of that stuff before, but for some reason that kid’s face is really, uh… stuck in my brain. You know? It’s really- I can’t… And I want to forget… about him. And I just want to escape.”

Once again, he pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped away from the microphone, mumbling his apologies. Lydia got up and ran around to the side door to follow him out.

“I’m sorry,” she said as they met up and started walking to the car. “I didn’t want to interrupt you-”

“It’s fine,” he breezed. “Let’s just… get this over with.”

~ ~ ~

“Sorry we’re late,” Spencer announced as he and Lydia jogged into the conference room..

“Do I want to know what you two were up to?” Morgan teased.

Lydia was quick to cover Spencer’s secret for him. “You sound as if going to the movies is scandalous.”

“Movies, hm?” Rossi joined. “Tell us what the movie was about.”

“Wouldn’t know. We didn’t get to finish it.”

Both boys gave the couple a look. Spencer started to shrink in his seat, but Lydia kept up her stance, not wanting them to push for anymore answers.

“I know it’s late,” Hotch interrupted. “I know we’re tired, but we’ve got two dead cops.”

“Alright.” JJ opened up the file in front of her and continued briefing the team, pointing to what looked to be a massive house fire displayed on the scene. “The resident, Rod Norris, was DOA. They’re still trying to ID the remains of the second victim, whom they believe is his 16-year-old daughter Jordan. From the condition of the remains, she would have had to have been inside the house, close to the source of the blast.”

“Clearly they used the bombing to set the officers up for an ambush,” Emily noted.

Spencer nodded. “It’s a well-established terrorist tactic. The first wave takes out civilians, the second wave takes out first responders.”

“The locals are thinking terrorism?” Morgan asked. “In West Bune, Texas?”

JJ nodded. “Not exactly a tier-one target, but DHS did issue a terror alert for the border states yesterday, just due to the timing and nature of the attacks.”

As the team argued about the chances of this being an actual terrorist attack, Lydia looked over her file. An explosive went off in Rod Norris’s house, and when two cops arrived on the scene, they were shot. Hotch probably wanted her working on identifying the explosive and seeing if there is any evidence to recover from the house.

Simple enough.

~ ~ ~

“The blast was localized here,” Lydia announced as she walked onto the scene. “The room was sealed off. There’s plastic and duct tape on the doors and windows.”

“Cordite,” Rossi added as he smelled something on the ground. “Gunpowder.”

Reid was looking through his file. “Yeah. They found a dozen canisters, it says.”   
  


Rossi and Prentiss put their heads together, determining where Jordan and Rod were standing when the explosion happened. Lydia ran her fingers over the door frames. Whoever set this up wouldn’t need to clean up their evidence. There was no way she could recover anything out of the pile of ashes that used to be the Norris house.

“They didn’t care about the rest of the house,” Spencer said, more to Lydia than the others. “The whole thing’s designed to focus the blast on whoever came through that door.”

“If that’s true, something had to trigger the blast,” she reasoned.

Emily held up a charred box of cigarettes. “Rod Norris was a smoker.”

Lydia glanced at the floor where all the gunpowder had been set. Drop a hot cigarette on that?  _ Kaboom _ .

“I’ve been working with you profilers long enough to know that no terrorist is going to watch Rod Norris long enough to know that he was going to enter through this door and be smoking a cigarette at a specific time,” Lydia replied. “This is too personal.”

~ ~ ~

The more they learned, the more the case reeked of personal problems.

Their unsub was a boy named Owen Savage. His father was one of the responding officers on the Norris scene. He’d staged the explosion to kill Jordan Norris’s dad and look like Jordan had died too. Then, when his father showed up, he shot him and his partner. They were pretty sure that Jordan wasn’t a part of the murders and was either a hostage or was completely unaware of the situation. She had been dating Owen for a long time, so it was likely she had agreed to leave with him, without checking in with her father.

Lydia had been talking with Garcia about the teens’ families when she saw Spencer storm away out of the corner of her eye. He had just… left.

Finishing up her conversation, she ran over to Hotch.

“Did you send Spencer away?”

“Have you seen how he’s been acting?” Hotch snapped.

She wasn’t surprised to hear that Spencer was moody. Leaving that meeting so suddenly was hard for him and he was still dealing with Ryan Phillips’s death. Working on another teen-involved case was probably not helping.

“Lydia, you two promised-”

“This isn’t a relationship thing!” she defended before he could say anything else. “He’s dealing with something else. The only reason I’m involved is because he told me about it. Please just…”

“Talk to him,” Hotch ordered. “His passive aggressive attitude is going to get him into trouble. The town’s already pissed we’re here.”

Lydia nodded, switching topics. “I heard that Officer Lett’s wife freaked out on you guys earlier. I’m sorry.”

“The police are under a lot of pressure to find who did this. They don’t need some angsty teen from the FBI telling them they’re stupid as well.”

She blinked. “He called someone stupid?”

“Talk to him,” Hotch repeated, ignoring her question.

“Yes, sir.”

~ ~ ~

“Has she calmed yet?” Lydia asked Emily.

They had been able to get in contact with Jordan Norris and tell her about what Owen had done, convincing her to run away from him and join them in the station, but she still didn’t fully trust them. It’d taken much persuasion and a lot of promises not to hurt Owen for her to give up where he was hiding. And now she was sobbing, half in fear, half in shame, in one of the private rooms in the station.

“No,” Emily replied, bluntly, on her way to get the girl another cup of water. “Did you hear from Hotch?”

Lydia nodded. “Owen wasn’t at the ranch. He left a note, I guess, about returning his mother’s necklace.”

Emily simply shrugged. “He can’t have gotten far. I’m sure the rest of the team will find him.”

She walked back to the grieving girl, who JJ was currently comforting, leaving Lydia alone in the bullpen of the station. That is, until Spencer came rushing in, brushing past her to get to their evidence boards.

“Spencer?” she called, already on his heels. “Why are you back?”

“They think he’s going to his mother’s grave,” he breathed, yanking a photo from the board and then looking around for Jordan.

“Isn’t he?” she demanded, seeing that the picture he had grabbed was the photo of Owen’s mother that he kept on his laptop. She was smiling, pointing to her necklace, which said ‘Hope’.

Hotch had assumed by Owen’s note that Owen was taking that necklace to his mother’s grave, as a way of ‘giving it back’ to her. But when Spencer interrupted Jordan and JJ’s conversation, throwing the photo in the young girl’s face, Lydia understood what he was thinking.

“He was gone when we got to the ranch. I want to save his life, but I need to ask you a question. This necklace-- he gave it to you?”

He spoke so fast, it was hard to differentiate between sentences, but Jordan took a second to process what he had said, then nodded. “I left it at the ranch.”

“He’s coming here,” Spencer said, already on his way out of the station.

Lydia jumped in front of him, already holding up a hand to stop him. “He’s going to do everything he can to get to Jordan.”

“I can’t let him do this, Lydia,” he hissed, trying to push past her. “It’s a suicide mission. I won’t let him die.”

“I know this is hard for you,” she told him, still maintaining eye contact to keep him in place. “But I can’t let you do this alone. Tell me the plan, and we walk out together.”

He glanced at the door, clearly anxious to leave before Owen got there. But his eyes were somewhat relieved to tell her what he was going to do. “Leave your gun. He wants to go down shooting. If we don’t have weapons, he has no reason to kill us. The only thing he wants more than death, is to apologize to Jordan so… I have to make it clear that that’s still an option.”

Lydia was already pulling her gun from its holster, setting it down on the desk beside her. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He nodded, sternly, and unarmed, the two of them walked out of the station, side by side.

The sun was unbearable outside. The two of them could barely see Owen’s dark figure approaching down the block, but the shotgun across his chest was hard to miss. Lydia’s hands were already up, her palms facing outwards. Spencer followed suit as the boy saw them approaching and aimed his weapon in their direction.

“Reid!” Prentiss screamed, leaving the station just in time to watch them walk into danger. “Ambers!”

The two of them ignored her, Spencer stepping forward to speak. “Owen, we don’t have guns on us. My name is Spencer, this is Lydia, we’re with the FBI, and we’re here to help you.”

“Yeah?” he cried. “I need you to stay back.”

There were tires squealing behind them and Lydia finally glanced behind her to see a black SUV with Rossi, Morgan, and Hotch inside pull up behind them. As Spencer continued, they threw open the doors and positioned themselves behind them, guns at the ready.

“I know the only reason you joined the wrestling team was for your father. I know that he blamed you for what happened-”

“Stay back! Right where you are!”

“-I also know the only reason you killed Rod Norris and Kyle Borden was to protect Jordan. I know the harder you tried, the worse it got, and it felt like everyone just stood there watching you suffer, and not a single person even tried to help.”

“They didn’t,” Owen sobbed. “They didn’t.”

“I know you want to escape… and forget. Believe me when I say I know… I know  _ exactly  _ how that feels.”

Lydia, listened to him speak. This case with Owen was really hard for him. She knew that he was dealing with cravings, but the way he spoke to Owen made her think it was something more. She’d never imagined that highschool was easy for Spencer. He was only 12 at the time. But there was clearly something specific on his mind.

Lydia kept glancing back so that she could position herself between Owen and the rest of the team. Hotch was going to kill her later. She was certain of it. But she was convinced that they were more likely to shoot Owen than Owen was likely to shoot her or Spencer. And for Spencer’s sake, she’d do anything to keep Owen from dying.

“Owen, there’s so much more for you out there,” Lydia finally spoke up.

“No. No, I’m already dead.”

“You aren’t dead,” she promised. “If you die, you’re going to leave Jordan. And right now, she’s in the station begging us not to hurt you.”

“You don’t want to leave her like your mother left you,” Spencer agreed.

“Ok.” Owen’s head shook wildly, trying to keep the upper hand on the situation. “Bring her to me. Bring her outside.”

“I can’t bring her outside,” Spencer quickly told him. “But, if you put the gun down, I swear to god, I’ll take you to her. I promise, nobody will hurt you. You’ll say goodbye to her, and you’ll give her the necklace. Alright? So what do you say? Let’s put the gun down. Let’s go inside.”

Lydia could see the battle in Owen’s mind, so she added, “Owen, Jordan loves you so much. If not for your sake, come in peacefully for hers. She’s been through so much, don’t let her live with this on her conscience as well.”

Finally, he nodded, reaching underneath his overcoat and taking the strap of the shotgun off his shoulder. Pointing it away, he stepped forward and put the weapon softly on the ground.

Now that he was unarmed, Lydia stepped to the side and let the team see Owen, his arms already above his head.

“They have to cuff you now, Owen,” Lydia told him calmly, trying to maintain eye contact with him so he didn’t see all the FBI agents running towards him and freak out. Spencer moved the gun aside and stepped up next to her. “You did so good, Owen. I know this is scary, but just stay calm. I promise we’re taking you to Jordan right now.”

“You two okay?” Morgan asked as he grabbed Owen's arms and locked them behind his back.

Spencer nodded, patting the boy down and pulling a knife from his belt as well as his mother’s necklace. “We’re fine.”

Lydia turned and finally made eye contact with Hotch. A very,  _ very  _ pissed off Hotch.

~ ~ ~

The night had hit fast and the whole plane was quiet. Lydia leaned into Spencer’s shoulder, her mind drifting with everything that had happened on the case. As much as she had to be worried about, her mind kept coming back to the same point: despite how stressed he was, Spencer told her the plan. He let her come with him. And that said volumes about the trust between the two of them. She knew that. She could see it so clearly now.

The strong connection she felt to him in the moment, couldn’t even be broken when Hotch sat down across from the two of them, his face a state of unwavering seriousness.

“You two knowingly jeopardize your lives and the lives of others. I should fire you both.”

Reid bit down on his lip nervously. “You have to understand that this was entirely my idea, sir.”

“Ambers?” Hotch addressed. “Do you believe Reid deserves the blame for this?”

“No, sir.”

Despite his clear anger, Lydia knew that Hotch wasn’t going to fire them. In fact, she doubted they’d get much punishment at all. He was good at understanding the intentions of his team.

He looked at Spencer again. “You’re the smartest kid in the room, but you’re not the only one in that room. You pull something like this again, don’t expect lenience from me. The same goes for you, Lydia. Am I clear?”

Spencer nodded immediately, “Yes, sir,” with Lydia following suit.

“It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” Spencer added.

“What were you thinking?”

Lydia dropped her hand over her boyfriend’s and waited patiently for him to answer. She may have followed him into the line of fire, but in the end, it was his decision, which would have happened with or without her.

“I was thinking that that would have been the second time a kid died in front of me.”

“You’re keeping score.” Hotch shook his head in warning. “Just like Owen.”

“It was my turn to save one,” Spencer joked, without much of the humor.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“It should.”

Lydia listened intently to their conversation. This was obviously a talk the Spence needed to have with his boss on his own. They both needed to address the death of Ryan Phillips.

“I know it’s painful when the person you identify with is the bad guy,” Hotch told him and Spencer’s eyes fell to his intertwined fingers with Lydia.

“What does that make me?”

“Good at the job.” For the first time that night, there seemed to be a hint of a smile on his face.

Lydia leaned back onto her boyfriend’s shoulder as the unit chief stood up, but he continued to speak to them as he stepped into the walkway of the jet.

“I know it’s none of my business, but when we land, I think you should go and catch the rest of that movie.”

Lydia almost stupidly asked him what he was referring to, forgetting all about the cover she had set up for them at the beginning of the case to excuse their tardiness.

“He has to know that was a lie,” Spencer mumbled into her hair.

“No doubt,” she agreed. “But I think he knows that whatever it was was important to the two of us. That’s all that really matters, right?”

“Right,” he whispered, tiredly drifting off against her side.


	22. Lo-Fi (S3E20)

“ _ Hotch wants you at the airport immediately, _ ” Spencer told her as she responded to his call one morning.

“No briefing?” she asked, already grabbing her things.

“ _ We’re headed to New York immediately. We’ll be briefed on the jet. _ ”

“See you there.”

Pulling out the extra go-bag she kept in her closet, Lydia grabbed her keys and laptop and rushed down to her car, calling the school to ask for someone to sub in for her classes the next few days. She huffed, knowing that there was no way she could find someone for that afternoon, so she’d have to cancel.

She got to the airport not too long after and walked out onto the runway, almost onto the jet when she saw the rest of the team pull up in black SUVs. She decided to stop on the stairs, almost up to the door and give them a wave.

She was surprised to see Garcia among them, with a ball of pink yarn and a pair of knitting needles in her hands.

Spencer jogged up to the stairs so that he could be the first one to meet her and they boarded the plane together.

“Did you call your school?” he asked, the two of them stepping up to the four seat set up and sitting across from one another.

“Yep. And now I get to spend the flight sending emails to my students and sub so that it doesn’t all go to shit before I get back.”

She had just opened up her computer when Hotch sat down to her right and dropped a file onto her keyboard. “Read up first. It’s a bad one.”

“Yes, sir,” she sighed. “I can assume, seeing as I’ve never seen Garcia leave DC.”

Rossi sat down next to Spencer and she watched as Garcia, Morgan, and Emily boarded together.

“How come I only get to travel with you guys like once every two years?” Garcia was saying, looking for a good spot to sit down.

“Trust me, mama, it can get old.”

“Oh right,” she grumbled. “Like the way spa treatments in 5-star hotels can get old.”

Morgan handed her her dark purple purse with a smile.

Lydia then tuned them out to scan the case file. Five shootings in New York over the span of two weeks. The unsub is always wearing a black hoodie and shoots people through the head with a .22-caliber pistol in broad daylight. No witnesses. No connections between the victims.

“Each victim was killed in a completely different neighborhood,” Hotch told the three of them. “Hell’s Kitchen, Murray Hill, Lower East Side, Chinatown, East Harlem.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Spencer agreed. “There’s no common victimology, no sexual component, no robbery, no geographical connection. Do the police have any leads?”

Hotch shook his head. “He’s killing roughly every two days. The press is having a field day, and it sounds like the mood on the streets is getting pretty edgy.”

“It’s a joint FBI-NYPD taskforce?” Rossi asked.

That was definitely unusual. Lydia glanced over the files, looking for more details, but was starting to realize there were none.

“Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office. She’s running point on the case and called me directly. She’s starting the butt-heads with the lead detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes.”

Lydia set down her file and turned to her boss. “No offense, Hotch, but why am I here?”

“I want as many eyes on these occurrences as possible. That includes yours,” he argued. “You're one of my best interrogators and the most level-headed. Already, the profile is looking skewered and rare. With the amount of media coverage this is getting, we really don’t know what to expect from the unsub or the citizens. Be quick on your feet and flexible. You’ll have things to do, I promise.”

She nodded, unsure. Mostly because Hotch had called her level-headed and she most definitely wasn’t. But this still didn’t seem like her kind of case.

How wrong she was.

~ ~ ~

That afternoon another body showed up. And this time, there was something at the scene, though small, for her to look at.

“Whatcha got?” Rossi asked, looking at the evidence bag in her hands.

“Tarot card,” she explained. “‘Death.’ It was found right between the victims legs.”

“Six murders and he’s finally communicating with us,” Rossi mumbled and the team, as well as SSA Joyner and the two NYPD detectives they were working with, approached.

“Death?” Detective Cooper asked. “Isn’t that a little on the nose, even for a psycho?”

“So we think this guy’s into spiritual garbage?” Detective Brustin added.

Hotch took the card from Lydia. “Well, if he is, he certainly doesn’t know tarot. The death card doesn’t actually signify physical death. It’s more of a transformation from one place to another-- a job promotion or a marriage.”

“So if he’s not telling us he’s into fortune-telling, what’s with the card?” Cooper demanded.

Rossi was the first to respond. “The DC sniper left the exact same card at one of his scenes.”

“My bet’s on terrorist.” The words slipped out of Lydia’s mouth before she could think better of them.

It was the taunting. It seemed a bit too obvious. She couldn’t stop herself from assuming this was the kind of message a terrorist would send.

“Ambers,” Hotch hissed. After Gideon left, Hotch had taken over the role of telling her off when she acted too calm about a serious subject. She knew it could make others on the scene uncomfortable, but it was hard to stop her innate curiosity into the unusual.

“He studies other cases,” Rossi explained, trying to distract momentarily from the thought of terrorists in New York. “He’s telling us he knows we’re here.”

All eyes went to the crowd, suddenly looking for someone suspicious.

“Ambers, get that back to the office and dust it.”

“By the time I’m done, I’ll be able to tell you where every speck of dirt on it came from.”

~ ~ ~

“Two unsubs?” Lydia asked as she stepped out of the SUV and made her way into the hotel they were staying in for the evening. “Tell me my theory doesn’t sound more plausible now-”

“Maybe it is plausible, but that’s a big jump, Lydia,” Hotch said. Reid, Emily, and JJ were following them. “You’re putting our lead detectives on edge and possibly introducing a bias into their theories.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What was your theory?” Spencer inquired, but Hotch cut her off before she could answer.

“That’s a discussion for later. Mainly, not in public.”

Hotch opened the door for them and once inside, Emily went straight for a small table with the day's newspapers on it. “Look at this. Late edition doesn’t miss a beat.”

She handed it around for them to look at the front page which read: ‘Execution Style’ and had a picture of the day’s murder. They paused momentarily in the lobby and Lydia was just able to see Spencer make eye contact with someone across the room before saying, “JJ.”

They all turned to match his gaze and found a man standing up, a suitcase by his side, looking exhausted.

“Will,” JJ called, meeting him halfway across the lobby.

“Will?” Lydia asked her boyfriend, seeing that everyone in the room recognized him, but her.

“JJ’s boyfriend. He’s a detective for the New Orleans Police Department. We’ve worked with him before.”

“I didn’t even know JJ had a boyfriend,” she admitted, following Hotch and Emily over to meet him.

“Hey,” he was saying to JJ as they all crowded around. “I took a shot and flew to DC, but it didn’t work. I figured a train ride to New York was only a few more hours.”

“Detective,” Hotch greeted, holding out a hand to shake.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this. I know you’re working, but um…” He glanced at JJ and sighed. “I can’t stand you being on this case and me not being here-- not with what’s going on.”

“Is there a problem?” Hotch asked, turning his question on JJ.

It didn’t exactly take a profiler to guess what JJ was going to say next. When she turned around, her hand was grasping the strap of her bag tightly, but she had a small smile on her face. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my god! JJ!” Emily squealed and Spencer’s eyebrows shot across his forehead. “Congratulations!”

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,” Will explained, shaking hands with Hotch.

“ _ Will _ ,” she hissed, breaking away from Spencer and moving onto Lydia.

“Congratulations,” she whispered into JJ’s blonde hair.

“We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy,” Hotch said, walking off, but before the others could join him, JJ was calling after him and jogging off, leaving Reid, Prentiss, and Lydia with Will.

“Uh, I’m Lydia Ambers.” She offered out a hand to shake. “I hear you’ve worked with the team before in New Orleans.”

“William LaMontagne,” he greeted. “I also met them for a case in Florida.”

“Florida and New Orleans?” She turned on the other two. “Why don’t I ever get to go to the cool places?”

“They clean up the blood too fast,” Emily joked. “Nothing for you to see.”

“Are you an agent?” Will inquired.

“No. Forensic contractor. Ain’t that a title?” She glanced over and noticed JJ and Hotch finishing up whatever they were saying to one another. “We should probably head in. But it was lovely to meet you, Will.”

He nodded. “Likewise.”

The other two said their goodbyes and Lydia gave JJ a gentle squeeze on the shoulder as she passed to get her room for the evening.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, Lydia once again found herself at a crime scene. This time, however, Prentiss and Cooper had given chase to the guy and killed him, Cooper getting shot in the process. It had been hard on Emily, but it proved something to them.

Lydia might not be crazy. This whole terrorism thing was starting to sit in the forefront of everyone’s minds.

“So, how does this work?” Lydia asked, the team sitting around in the New York FBI office.

“The murders simulate a bombing,” Spencer began. “From there, they station someone to watch and gauge police response time.”

“At which point,” Morgan picked up, “they know when to bring in a second bomb.”

Kate nodded. “The goal is always to take out the first round of civilians, followed by a second wave of emergency responders.”

“It’s crazy, but it’s ingenious,” Spencer told Lydia. “They get a practice run and if someone catches the shooter, they think they just have a murderer. The cell isn’t compromised.”

“It’s Lo-Fi,” Kate agreed. “The smartest way to plan for a terrorist event.”

“Creating panic ensures that they see the most urgent response times short of a bombing,” Hotch reasoned.

“So what I’m hearing is, if a bomb goes off and we try to help, we’re dead?”

“I think they’re targeting points of entry,” Reid continued when no one answered Lydia. “All the murders have taken place near a bridge or tunnel.”

“If bombs went off, emergency response would shut down any ability to get in or out of the city,” JJ realised. “It’s like people would be trapped on the island.”

“Keep in mind it’s still a theory, just like any other profile,” Hotch said, but his words weren’t hitting anyone. They’re minds were completely set. It was just too perfect to be coincidence.

Everyone’s anxiety spiked as Morgan’s cell phone rang, all eyes now on him.

“Talk to us, Garcia.”

“ _ We got a problem. I went through and checked all 4,468 cameras. They hacked into the surveillance system. They’ve got footage of every crime scene. They’ve been watching since the beginning. _ ”

“How could we not have caught that?” Hotch demanded.

“ _ They were smart. It wasn’t system-wide. You had to check each camera individually. _ ”

“And this is from  _ every  _ crime scene?” Emily asked.

“ _ I’m afraid so. They hacked into one camera at every scene. _ ”

“Thanks, Garcia.” Morgan flipped the phone shut, his face hardening.

“So much for theory,” Rossi grumbled.

“We need to hit the ground running,” Kate determined and suddenly everyone was on the move.

“I’m gonna head to the hospital.” Emily grabbed her jacket and gun. “I’ll check on Cooper and brief Detective Brustin.”

“Good. Dave, will you go talk to the commissioner? And, Morgan, you brief homeland security.”

They both nodded to Hotch, already grabbing their things.

“JJ and I will talk to the Port Authority police,” Spencer offered.

The unit chief nodded. “Ambers, I want you here, looking for anything we missed. Stay in contact with Garcia. Look for any good leads about this cell. Kate and I will go talk to the mayor and we’ll meet back here as soon as possible.”

The room was clearing insanely fast. In a blink, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi were gone. Kate went to grab some things from her office. Hotch called the Mayor to tell them they were coming. And JJ was called away by one of the New York agents, who had a package for her.

“Should I feel bad?” Lydia asked before Spencer could say anything to her. She stood in front of their evidence board, looking over all the photos of the people who’d been shot. Seven victims.

“You didn’t wish a home-grown terrorist cell in New York into existence,” Spencer argued. “Your instincts might have saved us from being completely unprepared for this.”

“Is there still any chance we’re all wrong?” She turned, but only found disappointment in his eyes. “Well… it’s not the first time we’ve been working against a terrorist attack.”

“And last time, we were 1,211 miles away from one another,” he agreed. “We’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be okay.”

Just as he was leaning down to give her a kiss goodbye, Hotch walked up to the two of them, startling them into stepping away from one another in embarrassment. Of course, PDA was a big issue in the office, so no one had seen the two of them do more that lean into each other's shoulders. But it was disappointing, nonetheless, to not get a satisfactory goodbye.

“Ambers, I want you to go with Reid to Port Authority and let JJ run point from the office.”

“O-Okay.”

“Thank you.”

And then, he was gone again.

“What was that about?” she asked Spencer, who was throwing his satchel over his shoulder.

“All I know is that Will sent something to the office for her. She might not want to be in the field right now.”

Lydia nodded and began following him out of the office and to one of their SUVs outside. “Okay. I can drive and you can tell me how to do this.”


	23. Mayhem (S4E1)

“ _ We’re getting reports that an explosion has rocked a neighborhood in the vicinity of the Federal Plaza- _ ”

Lydia’s heart dropped into her stomach.

“ _ Authorities have closed down the entire area and are not going to give any information at this time. And with eight suspicious incidents in as little as three weeks, we have no room but to speculate whether or not there will be more attacks. We have no word yet on any injuries, but with the explosion heard as far away as Prince Street, an unconfirmed report said it was a car bomb... _ ”

“Hotch isn’t answering,” Spencer told her, from the passenger street.

Lydia was rushing to the second meeting location. It was something they had set up in case the New York office was unreachable and with a bomb going off in Federal Plaza, unreachable was an understatement.

“No JJ. Trying Morgan.”

_ Please pick up. Morgan. Prentiss. Somebody. Pick up the phone. _

They had just finished speaking with the Port Authority police when the news broke. Luckily, Lydia was able to reach their backup location and run in, Spencer on her heels. Rossi stood in front of an evidence board, his eyes on a TV screen across the room.

“Rossi!” Lydia called. “We heard about it on the radio. We’ve tried almost everybody, but--”

“The cell phone system is crashing.”

“Did they say where the bomb was?” Spencer asked.

“No.”

“Shit,” Lydia mumbled. “That’s just…  _ shit _ .”

“ _ Breaking news now _ .” They all spun to the TV. “ _ We are just getting an update. The bomb is now reported to have been inside an SUV. A black SUV parked just blocks from 26 Federal Plaza. _ ”

Rossi’s hand went to the phone, dialing so fast Lydia’s head was spinning.

“ _ Agent Rossi? We heard there was some kind of explosion. _ ” Penelope sounded winded over the speaker phone.

“Where are you?”

“ _ I just walked into the CCTV command post. _ ”

“Can you see anything?”

“ _ I literally just walked through the door, sir. _ ”

“Garcia, a black SUV just became shrapnel mere blocks from Federal Plaza,” Lydia said into the phone.

There was a pause. The gravity of the situation seemed to be hitting her. “ _ Oh, god. _ ”

“Do you have eyes there?” Rossi demanded.

Finally, she seemed to snap back into herself and got to work. “ _ Yeah… Yeah. I’ve got, like, 300 cameras right there. Give me a sec. _ ”

“Reid and Ambers are okay, but we don’t know where anyone else is. And, Garcia-”

“ _ Yes, sir? _ ”

“Find them.”

~ ~ ~

“Federal Plaza. 26 Federal Plaza. Why?” Spencer mumbled.

The map of New York he was given was transparent, and Lydia watched him stare at all the little marks he’d made in Expo marker through the other side.

“Garcia had us on conference and the system crashed,” Emily said as she rushed into the room.

JJ was right behind her. “Emily!”

She flipped around and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god you’re alright. Where’s Will?”

“He’s stuck at the airport. As soon as I heard I went straight to 26 Fed. They’re evacuating the building. Where is everyone?”

“Morgan’s alright, but we haven’t heard from Hotch,” Emily admitted.

Rossi’s laptop made a few beeping noises, then Garcia’s face popped onto screen. “ _ The bomber! Derek’s chasing after him! _ ”

“What?!” Lydia cried.

“ _ The bomb-- it was under Kate’s SUV. Hotch is out there with her. He seems okay, but she looks really hurt. He hasn’t moved her. _ ”

“Where was Kate’s SUV parked?” Rossi demanded.

“ _ Two blocks east of Federal Plaza. _ ”

Spencer ran to his map as Emily was trying to make sense of it. “Two blocks east and they target Kate’s SUV?”

It didn’t sit right with anyone. So far, they hadn’t hit a second wave of people. They hadn’t even killed anyone in the first bombing. There were so many more meaningful,  _ damaging  _ places to hit.

“Have you ID’d the bomber?” Rossi continued.

“ _ We’re running him and the guy Emily shot through ViCAP _ .”

Rossi started to instruct JJ on talking to Homeland Security and Emily and Lydia got closer to the laptop.

“How did Derek find this guy?” Lydia asked.

“ _ I watched him. He planted the bomb, watched the explosion from afar, then ran to help Hotch. I called Derek and told him that he was on the scene. _ ”

“Find out how we can help,” Emily insisted.

“ _ On it. _ ”

~ ~ ~

“Are you writing math equations on the map?”

“This doesn’t make sense, Lydia. Our profile says they’d send bombs to old shooting sites. Hell’s Kitchen, Murray Hill, Lower East Side, Chinatown-”

“But they didn’t,” she agreed. “They went for Kate’s SUV.”

“They haven’t shut down the city. There wasn’t a second wave. The profile hasn’t informed any of their decisions. Why?”

Lydia racked her brain for something brilliant Hotch, Gideon, or even Spencer himself might have said to her. She wasn’t a profiler, but she’d worked with them for long enough to keep up. “We determined they’re familiar with other cases. If that’s true, then they’re familiar with the concept of profiling. What if everything else: the shootings, the locations, the suicide-by-cop set-up, was all to make us send our resources elsewhere. They wanted us to think the murders were Lo-Fi, but they were just distractions.”

“From what?”

“Morgan’s safe,” Emily announced from across the room, hanging up her phone.

Lydia nodded, then dragged Spencer over to the table where Emily, Rossi, and Detective Brustin were debating.

“These are smart, well-educated kids,” Rossi was saying. “Hand-picked and trained to be martyrs. They’re not going to be in any government file and they won’t have rap sheets.”

“Hotch and Kate are at St. Barclay’s Hospital,” JJ told them, reaching the group.

“How are they?” Lydia asked.

“Well, Hotch is in the ER, Kate’s in surgery. Morgan’s on his way down there now.”

“The media’s reporting this as a failed attack on 26 Federal Plaza,” Emily added, looking up from her laptop.

“Well, it’s not,” Rossi argued.

“They’re not the only ones,” Brustin said. “Homeland Security feels the same way-”

“They’re wrong-”

“They found nothing at any of the sites that you told them these guys were targeting. Maybe this thing is over.”

“That’s what Reid and I were just discussing,” Lydia finally spoke up. “Setting up distractions. They fit the profile you made to a T and yet, we don’t know their motive. Isn’t that odd?”

“We were worried they were trying to shut down the city, so we’ve been protecting the exits, but so far, it doesn’t even look like they’ve done something bad enough to make people want to leave,” Spencer explained.

“As soon as the bomb techs identify the device, I want to know about it,” Rossi insisted. “Look at the video we have of the bomber.”

He flipped around his computer and Lydia leaned in, Spencer hovering over her shoulder. “He’s using his cellphone,” she stated.

“Joyner and Hotch approach, and  _ bam _ ,” Brustin narrated.

Whatever call he had made was the trigger. This meant these guys didn’t even need to forfeit themselves to the cause. There wasn’t a suicide element. They could get safely away.

“Why not wait until they both get in?” Emily asked.

“Guess he figured he was close enough.”

“Wouldn’t you wait? Until they were in it?”

Spencer huffed. “So far these guys have accomplished nothing.”

“Smart, well-educated boys,” Lydia quoted Rossi, “and they couldn’t even kill two FBI agents with a sophisticated car bomb. It sounds faked.”

“Everything. Everything they’ve done so far has appeared to be something it’s not,” Rossi hissed.

“Ambers, are you saying Hotch and Kate are a diversion, too?” Emily insisted.

“Hotch and Kate got to the hospital and no first responders were harmed!” she argued. “All of our man power is around Federal Plaza and nothing’s happening. If they’re smart enough to gage response times or even  _ fake  _ gaging response times, then there’s no way that they all agreed this was over at this point. They want to do something memorable. This isn’t that.”

“It’s Morgan,” JJ called, a phone pressed against her ear. “Hotch wants you guys over there now.”

_ Shit. _

~ ~ ~

“Are you okay?” Emily asked as Hotch approached them in one of the hospital waiting rooms. He was still putting on his kevlar vest, his face covered in scratches from the hit he took.

“Yeah. I just want to understand why I’m still alive.”

“We think the idea was to maim, not kill,” Spencer informed him.

“Did you identify Sam, the bomber?”

“Garcia put Sam and the other dead unsub into every known database. Nothing.”

“We know how terror cells evolve,” Rossi added. “They learn from one campaign to the next. How to stay off radar, like the London Bombers.”

“Yeah, but  _ they  _ hit at 8:50 in the morning, with a series of coordinated blasts aimed at London’s transportation system, and this cell targeted a lone SUV, where the only people on the street are two federal agents.”

Morgan shook his head. “It’s not multiple targets. It’s one target. One target, one bomb.”

They could hit anywhere. The only thing the team knew at this point, was they shouldn’t be paying attention to Kate’s SUV. It meant nothing.

“Did you ever find Sam’s cell phone?” Hotch asked out of the blue.

“Yes.”

“Did he call 911?”

Morgan looked confused by the question. “No. He dialed one number, six times, every few minutes.”

“It was a disposable cell,” Rossi explained. “It was destroyed minutes after Sam died.”

“Well, if he didn’t have a secondary device to detonate, there’s only one reason that he stayed with us.”

Lydia’s eyes flashed with recognition. The ambulance. They didn’t kill Hotch and Kate, because they needed an excuse to bring an ambulance in. “In a city on lockdown, an ambulance with its sirens blaring is going to make it through every roadblock virtually uncontested.”

“And straight into a hospital with a bypass order on it.”

“What?” Emily cried.

“Secret Service has a bypass order on this hospital.”

They planned this well, Lydia would give them that. Whoever Secret Service was protecting must be a big deal to be the center of this attack. They, and the rest of this building, were about to go up in flames. And Hotch had driven the bomb right past the guards.

They rushed out of the room, Hotch in the lead. Lydia pulled her communication device up into her ear, her hands dropping to rest on the vest she’d thrown on in the car ride over. Everyone seemed a bit rattled with the realization. The very building they were standing in could crumble any second now. Discreetly, she felt one of Spencer’s hands brush her back as they reached the room the Secret Service agents were in.

“Hey!” Morgan called. “Who you got in here?”

“Why is that information important to you?” a man with a suit on and a comm in his ear said.

Lydia stepped back from the group. She didn’t have any authority here, so she figured she’d butt out and let them have a screaming match.

“The ambulance I drove in here,” Hotch interrupted. “Where is it now?”

“In the basement. Why?”

After he said that, it seemed that Lydia and Morgan had the same idea. Forget the politics. Head to the basement.

It was easier for Lydia to slip into the hallway, having barely walked in to begin with. Her hand went to her holster as she ran, trying to pull out her gun, when she heard footsteps behind her and came face to face with Derek.

“Garcia’s jamming the cell phone frequencies,” he told her as they ran side by side to the stairwell.

“How well do you think that will deter him?” she asked.

“Not well enough.”

They were able to find their way to the garage pretty quickly, their guns up and ready. Once they were sure the room was clear, Morgan looked into the back windows of the ambulance and his face hardened.

It would be deadly, alright.

“ _ Derek? Lydia? _ ” Garcia’s voice floated through their comms softly.

Lydia nodded for him to check out the weapon, while she watched the two doors to his back for the bomber, in case he planned to come back.

“Yeah, baby?” Morgan was saying into the mic in his vest.

“ _ You sound stressed. _ ”

“Do I?”

“ _ Where are you two? _ ”

She heard a hiss from him inside the ambulance and knew it was bad. Derek, out of the rest of the team, had the most training with bombs. If he couldn’t deactivate it, they were screwed. No way everyone was getting out of this building before it went up.

She decided to answer Garcia for him. “We’re not where we want to be right now.”

“Garcia, how long can you keep jamming the cell phone lines?”

“ _ A few minutes. Max. Why? _ ”

“‘Cause I’m gonna have to get this ambulance out of here.”

At the sound of that, Lydia dropped her gun and immediately started undoing her vest.

“ _ Or you could just evacuate the building, like everyone else, _ ” Garcia argued, but it fell on deaf ears.

“No. As soon as the airways are clear, this thing’s going up.”

“ _ Going up? _ ” she stuttered. “ _ Oh my god, that’s in like three minutes, ‘cause that’s when the satellite moves position. _ ”

“Take this,” Lydia insisted, throwing her vest at Morgan as he jumped out the back and shut the door.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’re about to drive a vehicle full of chemicals through New York for it to inevitably explode and kevlar is your best defense. It’s heat resistant, and will protect you from chemical burns and shrapnel.” It would make a tiny shield when comparing her frame to Morgan’s, but at the very least, she hoped that if he ended up too close to the explosion, he could protect his head and only leave his arms and legs exposed. “Please, just hold onto it.”

He nodded and ruffled her hair teasingly. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Once he was in the vehicle, she ran for the door, wanting to get back to the team and tell them what was going on, but she didn’t make it that far.

She made eye contact with a bald man in a paramedic jacket, holding a gun. And suddenly, it came to her attention that her gun was still in the middle of the garage, after she’d put it down to take off the vest.

She heard two things practically at once. The first was Derek successfully hotwiring the ambulance. And the second… was a gunshot.

_ Son of a bitch. _

Her entire body ached as she hit the concrete floor, a hand reaching for the slowly growing stain on her stomach.

She was sure he would have shot her again in the head if it weren’t for the fact that Morgan was driving off with his device. Lydia could just see him run after the ambulance, before dark spots clouded her vision.

Her right hand was warm and slick with blood. She knew she should put pressure on her stomach, but at the moment, it felt like a dull annoyance. A cramp, maybe. And if she pushed down on it, the pain would sky rocket. So she left her hand there, sitting lightly on top of the hole in her abdomen.

She didn’t even hear Hotch until he was inches from her face.

“Lydia? Lydia, can you hear me?”

“Hotch,” she mumbled. “I, uh… I got shot.”

She didn’t sound concerned, but rather, surprised.

“I forgot that the bomber is as dangerous as the bomb-  _ hngk _ .”

Her vision started getting darker, and her eyes wandered the ceiling as if she could find a light spot.

“I’m sorry. I have to keep pressure on this,” he admitted. “You’re losing blood quickly.”

“We’re in a hospital,” she giggled, but immediately regretted it, a wave of nausea washing over her.

“Yes. We are. We’ll get you help. Where’s your vest? And your gun?”

“They’re-”

“Hotch!” Emily’s voice didn’t feel like it was getting closer, but farther away. “The bomber slit his thr- Oh my god. Reid! Reid!”

“Don’t call Reid,” Lydia told Hotch, her breath quickening. “He’s going to be mad at me…”

And then, the shadows overtook her.


	24. Recovery

In hindsight, it was probably the stupidest thing she could have said at the time. Spencer was never going to let her live this down. But at the same time, it had been a few years since she’d last awoken in a hospital bed and she was out of practice in gracefully waking up from a surgery. So, really could anyone blame her when she cracked her eyes open slowly, looked at the two men discussing something serious in her room, and said:

“Wait. Did I get  _ shot? _ ”

Morgan smirked. He was standing by the door, watching her try to blink away the massive headache she had. Spencer, who was facing him before she’d said anything, turned so fast she was pretty sure she could hear a whistling sound.

“Yes, you got shot!” he shouted, his expression a mix of rage and tears. He rushed up to her right side. “What the hell, Lydia?! Running to a bomb? Taking off your vest and gun?! Are you crazy?”

She was barely able to register his anger or relief. She was, frankly, worried about falling asleep again as he spoke to her. “Hold on. That hurts. I don’t actually… I can’t really remember…”

“Reid has been really worried about you,” Morgan said calmly and approached the opposite side of her bed.

“Morgan.” She smiled through her crumbling, shot voice. “You didn’t blow up.”

“No, kiddo. But I regret taking your vest from you. Looks like you could have used it more than me.”

“I don’t regret giving it to you,” she reassured him. “If I’d been wearing it, he probably would have shot me in the face instead.”

“It was reckless, Lydia,” Spencer continued. “Do you know how scared I was when I realized you had run down to the basement? Hotch and Rossi had to hold me back from running down there myself. And then, to hear Emily screaming my name. I knew something had happened. It was the most terrif-”

He stopped, suddenly, as Lydia’s hand landed on top of his own.

“Love, I’m so tired. Why don’t we save this argument for when I can yell at you, too, okay?”

And just like that, Spencer’s face softened and he leaned down, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Okay. Get some rest. I’ll plan my arguments for later.”

“No amount of planning will save you from the wrath of Lydia,” she mumbled, already half asleep. “I always win…”

She shut her eyes, her head falling to the side, but right before she succumbed to darkness once more, she faintly heard Morgan’s voice float over her head.

“I don’t care how angry you are. You picked a good one, Spencer. No argument is worth losing her.”

~ ~ ~

“I can’t imagine how empty the jet feels,” Lydia said as she strapped herself into the passenger seat of the SUV and Spencer pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

The explosion had messed up Hotch’s ears pretty bad. The doctors didn’t want him flying for a little while, because the pressure could be bad for his eardrums. So Morgan had agreed to drive him back to Quantico. And Spencer had agreed to take her.

She’d been hit in the lower left side of her abdomen. In all honesty, she was extremely lucky. The bullet had hit basically nothing but muscle and fat. But not being able to so much as lean forward was starting to be a real pain in the ass.

“Alright. So, what happened to that argument we were going to have?”

“You want to start off a three hour car ride with a fight?” he asked. “What if it’s really bad and you can’t stand to be near me?”

“Spence, I’d be shocked if you were able to say something to me that would make me not want to be near you.”

“And why is that?”

Lydia felt a small smile creeping onto her face. “I always seem to be missing you. Even when I shouldn’t be.”

“I constantly miss you, too,” he admitted. “I called my mom the other day and she said to me, ‘Do you spend any time away from Lydia?’ because I kept talking about you. I don’t even realize it.”

It was weird for Lydia. It almost made her nervous to see how dependent she’d become on one person. But she couldn’t push him away. Every attempt to keep a healthy distance between the two of them only brought her closer. And despite her mind’s protests, the rest of her liked being closer.

“How long until 2 years?”

“43 days.”

“Wow,” she murmured. “Almost two years I’ve called you my boyfriend and I still sometimes panic when I’m talking to you, because I’m worried you’re going to figure out how I feel about you.”

“Really?” he chuckled. “And here I was, embarrassed to admit that I’ve been counting down the days for the past two months.”

“If we wanted this car ride to be an argument, we’re doing a poor job of it.” She giggled slightly, before hissing and throwing her head back against the seat. “Son of a bitch. Penelope didn’t warn me that you can’t so much as breathe after getting shot.”

“Have you told your family yet?”

Lydia froze. “I… uh-”

“You can’t just act like you forgot. I know you’re avoiding it.”

“Is that terrible? I mean, they live across the country, do they really  _ have  _ to know?”

“Yes,” he replied, bluntly. “Secrets you aren’t actively lying about are still secrets. And on top of that, I need other people to worry about your health these coming weeks because I can’t do it alone.”

“Alright. For  _ your  _ sake, I’ll call them when I get home.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You do realize there’s no way I’m dropping you off at your apartment when we get back, right?”

“Spencer-”

“You were clutching my arm the whole walk to the car! You can’t live alone right now!”

“You’re so frustrating!” she retaliated. “I can look after myself.”

“You  _ know  _ that’s a lie!” She punched him on the arm, playfully upset. “We said we were going to fight earlier, but we couldn’t, and now you want to argue over living arrangements? What? Is my apartment that horrible?”

“No! But I don’t want you to have to care for me like a child.”

“That’s funny. ‘Cause I really  _ want  _ to care for you.”

She wanted to argue more, but the words died in her throat. As much as she hated to admit it, he was strangely perfect for her. They were both equally met in their arguments. And today, she didn’t care if he won. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, having him around, just in case.

“Don’t you find it strange, that we’re stuck on a three hour car ride, and we’re sitting here arguing about whether or not I should tell my family that I almost died?”

“No? Why do you ask?”

“It’s not really what normal couples do.”

There was that sparkle in his eyes again. The one of genuine happiness. The one he had when he was ranting about Doctor Who or Sherlock Holmes. The one he had when she told him she loved him. That sparkle.

“If I recall correctly, you’re the one who said, ‘I don’t think anything about our relationship is or will ever be normal’,” he teased.

And he always remembered correctly.

~ ~ ~

Lydia reached for the wrap around her side and hissed suddenly with the effort, waking up Spencer. As he rolled toward her, she shut her eyes embarrassedly.

“You need more ice,” he said, knowingly, already on his way out of the room.

He was clearly exhausted and didn’t deserve this. If Lydia had known how helpless she would be after leaving the hospital, she wouldn’t have agreed to come… And instead would have suffered painfully in her  _ own  _ bed.

He gave her a countdown before turning the lights on in the room and came back with a new ice pack and clean bandages. Lydia tried to sit up and help him unwrap her side, but as she lifted her head, she was hit with a wave of nausea, and dropped her head back onto her pillow, hands covering her mouth.

“Are you feeling sick?” he asked, looking over to the bottles at her bedside. “You’ve been eating before taking your medication, right?”

Lydia made a sound of agreement, although it wasn’t entirely true. Eating just about anything was hard, so if she could get in three bites before downing a pain reliever, she was lucky.

Yanking away the tape, Spencer unwrapped her abdomen and used the now-soaked, old ice pack to clear the wound a bit. Lydia tried not to whimper at the sting, but even so, he could still see her face contorted with discomfort.

Spencer on the other hand looked extremely focused. He was careful in his movements, not sparing a word or look he didn’t have to.

Once more, Lydia felt guilty for interrupting his sleep. He was acting quickly, trying to get this over with so that he could get back to sleep. She was a nuisance to him.

Laying the newer ice pack onto her hip, Spencer grabbed the old bandages and left her so that he could toss them out.

A tear slipped down her cheek once he was gone, but Lydia couldn’t tell whether it was from pain or frustration. She just wished the worst of this could be over. She hated problems she couldn’t face by herself.

Spencer was still quiet when he came back in. He shut off the light and carefully crawled into bed beside her, not sending so much as a look in her direction. Lydia prayed that he would be able to drift off easily after this.

And then, he said something that spooked her into complete awareness:

“Do you want to move in together?”

_...He was thinking about this now?! _

Lydia was sitting here worried that he hated her for intruding on his apartment and waking him up with her whining and he was thinking about… living together?

Shifting her head to his side, she noticed he was fully facing her, his right arm propping up his tired head. He didn’t even look nervous to hear her answer, just waiting patiently.

“You just spent… a full day waiting on me, hand and foot, like I’m a child,” she reasoned. “And you still want to move in with me?”

He chuckled. “Do you plan to be in this much pain for the rest of your life? Because then I’d be worried about waiting on you. But seriously, we were basically living together before, when I was going through my addiction recovery and now that we’re here I’ve been thinking… well, _ why not? _ You know?”

“Whose apartment would we stay in?”

“Mine,” he said, forwardly.

Lydia decided to mess with him a bit, saying, “But we’ve made so many sentimental memories at mine. What if I don’t want to say goodbye?”

“That’s fine, too!” he amended. “I just thought… mine is closer to your campus and has easy access to the metro. Also, it’s bigger. But if you want to-”

“No.” Lydia’s voice was completely even as she spoke, finally taking in the offer as an actual suggestion. “You’re right. Your place makes more sense. And I like it. I can’t imagine trying to transport all your books into my apartment.”

“Yeah?” He smiled at her and she did the same. “Great. Let’s do it.”

He turned back onto his back, clearly thinking the conversation was over, but she had come to realize something as they were speaking and wanted to make sure she didn’t lose her nerve by waiting.

“You know, Spence, we haven’t really been treating our relationship like a… long-term thing.”

“Two years,” he shrugged. “Doesn’t that already qualify us as long-term?”

“Well, when we started, we were both under the impression that our little crushes would never become anything,” she admitted. “That’s the whole reason we didn’t tell the team. But after all this time… we’re moving in together… I see us having a future together.”

Something about saying those words out loud was terrifying. She thought she knew and understood Spencer really well as this point, but maybe he didn’t want that. And she’d been so caught up in their time together, she hadn’t even realized that they’d never talked about their futures.

When he didn’t say anything, she gulped. “Do you think we’re going to get married?”

Feeling his body tense up next to her filled Lydia with immediate regret.

“Now?”

“No,” she reassured him. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of statistics to tell me why that’s a bad idea and frankly, I’m not interested in getting married now. But in a few years, can you see us getting married?”

She turned to look up at the ceiling, holding her breath in anticipation.

“Yes.”

Relief and something warm spread through her chest, her eyes fluttering closed peacefully, like they would during a soft kiss.

“I didn’t want to scare you, but I think about us getting married all the time.” His voice jumped with spikes of nervousness, but Lydia had finally relaxed and was willing to listen. “I mean, I know that on average, people wait about 3.5 years before getting engaged and don’t get married until 4.9 years into their relationship. And I know that longer relationships lead to stronger marriages, but I love you so much that sometimes I want to get married as soon as possible.”

Lydia giggled. “Let’s try the whole living together thing first. But I’m glad that we’re on the same page. I, uh, I really want to marry you one day.”

Spencer’s warm fingers found their way into Lydia’s palm and then interlinked with her own. “Good.”

Lydia smiled once more, squeezing his hand gently. “Where would we have it? Both our families are on the west coast, but the team is here.”

“The team can travel,” he argued, also gazing at the ceiling and imagining the day with her. “Better than my mother can, anyway.”

“And Sonia,” Lydia agreed. “Taking the twins all the way to Virginia would probably be a huge pain in the ass.”

“What time of year?” he asked.

“I don’t really care. I guess it depends whether the venue would be indoor or outdoor.”

“I like the outdoors,” he determined. “Fresh air, open space-”

“Easier to run,” she joked.

He chuckled. “Definitely. That’s my most important consideration. Are you going to take my name?”

Lydia blinked.

“I don’t… I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“You don’t have to. I like Lydia Ambers. Not to mention, that’s what your PhD says and those are hard to change.”

“Lydia Ambers,” she mumbled. “Lydia… Reid. I’m not sure what to think.”

“We’d have two Dr. Reid’s on the team,” he continued.

“But do you like the sound of it?” she asked. “Lydia Reid?”

He sighed. “I don’t think I’m used to it.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. “I love your name, Spencer, but it feels… wrong.”

He rubbed circles into the back of her hand comfortingly. “Dr. Spencer Reid and Dr. Lydia Ambers. That’s all I want.”

“I really, really love that.”

She watched him curiously as he sat up and leaned over her to give her a kiss. “And I love you. But seriously, you need to get some sleep. And I have work tomorrow.”

“Thanks for not letting me go home like this.”

“Thanks for letting me take care of you,” he smirked. “Next time you need a new bandage, just wake me up.”

“Yes, doctor.”

~ ~ ~

After about a month of rest, Lydia had gone back to her apartment and thrown all of her things into a few boxes to bring to Spencer’s. The first few days were strange. Getting used to seeing someone all the time changed a lot about your relationship. Even just basic things, like the fact that you greet one another less. Lydia kept having to catch herself before she said hello to Spencer after walking into the kitchen from the bedroom.

But the adjustment period was over quickly and by the time Lydia was teaching in a class again, her and Spencer maneuvered each other’s lifestyles effortlessly.

“You scare me so much,” Spencer mumbled over his mouthful of food one morning, almost so distorted that Lydia couldn’t understand him.

“I scare you? How’s that?”

“Well,” he started, swallowing another bite of the morning’s waffles, “I’ve never felt this way before about someone and so when Morgan found out we were moving in together and told me it was a big deal, I was terrified. Like, genuinely so scared that we wouldn’t like living together. But I love sharing this apartment with you. And all this time together has really got me thinking about how much power you have over me.”

Lydia shook her head, still not seeing where this conversation was going. The two of them had their legs tangled together on Spencer’s couch… or rather,  _ their  _ couch. Lydia had made some waffles for the morning, knowing that Spencer had a few hours before he had to go into work, and threw on the television for them.

“Don’t leave me hanging, Spence,” she finally said. “How much power do I have over you?”

“You have the ability to make me so,  _ infinitely  _ happy, that I don’t think I could stop smiling if I got shot right then and there,” he admitted. “But then, you have the power to take it all away. And you wouldn’t just be taking my happiness. You’d be taking everything: my excitement, my curiosity, my intelligence, my passion. If something actually happened to you, I’d be a shadow of myself, only capable of misery.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and sat up so they could be face to face. “You’re being a tad bit dramatic.”

“I’m really not,” he said in all seriousness. “You got shot and my only thought was, ‘If she dies, I might as well die, too.’”

“Never,” she insisted, tone just as dire. “Don’t tell me that. If you so much as believe my wishes still exist after death, you’ll take care of yourself, yeah? No matter what.”

He leaned forward to kiss her, but after a second, she pulled away, looking into his eyes and insisting on an answer.

“Only if you promise me the same,” he sighed. “And promise me that if I die anytime soon, you’ll look out for my mom.”

Lydia nodded and he pulled her back into the kiss, moving the plate in her hands out of the way so he could move in closer, but they were both interrupted by a knock at the door.

He pulled away again, frustratedly, and got up, leaving her slouched on the couch, gazing out the window at the solid color sky. She figured she’d keep staring until whoever was outside left and then her and her boyfriend could get back to their morning, but it didn’t end up working out like that.

“Hello…?” Spencer asked as he creaked the door open the tiniest amount.

“Oh my goodness, you must be Spencer!” Lydia’s body jolted up, one of her elbows cracking with the force she used to catapult off the couch. “I thought you’d be at work by now, I’m sorry. Is Lydia home?”

Before he could answer, Lydia yanked the door from his grip and came face to face with her sister. “What the hell are you-?”

She cut herself off only when the presence behind Beck became apparent to her. Her father was in DC, as well.

Lydia had given her new address to Sonia, knowing how Sonia liked to send her things every once in a while, like Christmas or birthday gifts. But had Sonia actually given her father her address so that he and Beck could pay her a visit?

“Lydia!” Beck squealed, pulling her sister into a hug, which Lydia accepted before she could register it. “How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?”

“No,” she assured her sister, leaving her hands on her shoulders as she released her grip. “Did you two come all the way to DC because I got shot?”

“Of course!” Beck giggled. “No one in the family’s ever been shot before. It’s scary. Also, you haven’t seen dad since his release. Oo! Can I see your wound?”

Lydia could see Spencer blinking rapidly in her peripheral vision, trying to keep up with Beck’s rapid and chaotic speech. Lydia just shook her head.

“Why didn’t you warn me you were coming?”

“ _ Warn? _ ” she demanded. “Bad word choice there. We didn’t  _ tell  _ you we were coming because we wanted to surprise you. And I’m glad, because if you knew, you would have told Spencer to run for the hills, wouldn’t you?”

Lydia honestly couldn’t argue with that. But it would have been for Spencer’s sake, not hers! He was probably so stressed at the moment. They weren’t exactly used to having invaders.

“Right, sorry. It’s nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m Beck, Lydia’s sister.”

“Uh, you too,” he stuttered. There was a pause and he looked at Lydia with the utmost amount of fear in his eyes. Then, he remembered his manners. “S-sorry! Please, come in. I’ll clear off the table.”

He rushed off to grab their breakfast plates and Beck offered to help. Lydia was certain the last thing he wanted was to spend more time with her sister, but she was glad to get rid of the two of them and speak to her father for a moment.

“Please be careful with him,” she said, automatically. “Spencer’s not very socially confident.”

“I didn’t realize you were living with anyone,” her father admitted.

“I’m shocked that Beck didn’t spill. Spencer and I have been dating for a solid two years at this point.”

Her father didn’t push the subject further and she was glad, though frankly, she didn’t care what he thought of the matter. She hadn’t considered him a guardian since his arrest, and therefore, he had no right to be protective.

“You’re wearing my ring.”

Lydia looked down, seeing the metal circle on her right hand and realizing that he had never seen her in it before. She wasn’t able to take it with her on visits, so he might not even realize that she still had it.

“Yeah… I’ve worn it almost everyday since you gave it to me. The day of your trial.”

He nodded, but he seemed to be too lost in thought to really acknowledge how sweet it was. “I guess… I’m just surprised. I really thought that after I left you’d closed yourself off from everybody. Having a boyfriend, wearing my ring… it doesn’t really sound like you.”

“To be fair,” she snapped. “You did leave me at an extremely influential part of my life. There’s no way you could have predicted how I’d come out the other end.”

She turned before he could retaliate and joined Spencer and Beck in the kitchen.

“Actually, microwaves were created by accident, just like post-it notes and teflon. The energy found in a microwave was originally used for radar systems in World War II, but while this one guy, Dr. Percy Spencer, was conducting experiments he had a candy bar in his pocket and it-”

“Spencer,” Lydia interrupted softly, “how did we end up talking about microwaves?”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, turning back to Beck. “Was I rambling? I’m told I tend to babble.”

Lydia was worried her sister was going to make him self conscious with her response, but instead, she found Beck sporting a wide grin, looking up at him curiously.

“Don’t apologize! I can see why Lydia likes you.”

He cleared his throat nervously, as if she might change her mind about him. “Uh… really?”

“Of course! Are you available for the day? Dad and I were going to take Lydia out to lunch!”

He glanced at Lydia, as if he expected her to answer for him. “Well, I actually have… Sorry, I have to go into work in about an hour.”

“That’s alright!” she responded cheerfully. “We’re staying in DC for a few days. Hopefully we’ll see you again?”

“...sure!” he stuttered.

“Great!” Lydia interrupted. Her sister wanted her to show them DC? She’d happily do it, just so long as they got out of Spencer’s hair. “I will go put some shoes on and we can go.”


	25. Minimal Loss (S4E3)

Lydia’s family stayed for about a week, attached to Lydia at the hip the whole time. She loved her sister dearly and was glad to have some time with her father, but she could barely breathe by the time she was taking them to the airport. As she explained to Spencer, she was merely frustrated they didn’t give her any heads up.

Luckily, they left before her teaching schedule came back into full swing at the university. It was nice to get back into her routine and see some of her students and coworkers who were worried about her. She didn’t realize how close she’d gotten to the people there until the letters, phone calls, emails, and gifts started flooding in, telling her to take it easy and get back soon.

And then, in October, Hotch finally gave her a call for a case.

It was small, but she wanted to get out of her apartment  _ so bad. _

Hotch was sending Lydia and Prentiss to Colorado where there was a claim against a separation church leader raping young girls.

Spencer wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear Lydia was leaving, but the whole thing was fairly straight-forward: interview the kids, determine what they could about the cult itself, then see if there was reason to shut them down. Hotch knew that there wasn’t going to be any extraneous activity, so it was a perfect start to reintroducing Lydia to the field. Not to mention, she was very perceptive and a master manipulator.

“Tell us about the 911 call,” she said as she flipped through a file on the people of the church.

Emily was in the front seat with Nancy Lunde, from Child Protective Services. She was the head of the case and had the most prior knowledge on the group itself. “I believe the ‘he’ that they referred to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus.”

“Benjamin Cyrus,” Lydia mumbled, flipping to his page. “No criminal record. No record at all, really. I doubt it’s a real name. Correct me if I’m wrong, Emily, but Cyrus is a biblical name. A monarch. I’m seeing some subtle messages in there.”

“It translates to ‘sun’ in persian,” Emily agreed. “What else do you know about him?”

Lunde shook her head. “It’s rumored that he’s practicing polygamy and forced marriages,” she said, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Any idea who the caller is?”

“Uh, Jessica Evanson is the one who the age fits, but… we can’t be sure. So I negotiated interviews with all the children. It wasn’t easy.”

“Well, considering their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI,” Emily explained and Lydia got to work on their covers. She took their guns, holsters, and badges, hiding them in the door of the car and handed Emily two fake IDs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.”

The Bureau had made them brand new drivers licences and CPS badges with Colorado addresses to complete their cover stories.

All too soon, they were approaching the front gate. The sign read ‘Liberty Church Ranch’ with a large cross beside it.

It was hot outside and Lydia could feel the dust coating her nose and throat as she exited the car, approaching a set of stairs leading up to the church.

“I’m looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus?” Lunde called to a figure on the steps.

“You found him.”

Cyrus wore a light flannel and jeans, with reading glasses perched on his nose and a book in his lap. Lydia had to hold herself back from calling him out on framing the scene.  _ Oh, look how kind and relaxed we are. Our leader sits outside and reads books all day blahblahblahbl- _

_ Open mind, Lydia. _

“I’m Nancy Lunde. We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

He got up and approached the three of them. “ _ ‘Savages they call us. ‘Cause our manners differ from theirs.’ _ ”

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus,” the red-headed woman huffed.

“Actually, that’s Benjamin Franklin,” he sneered.

Nancy ignored this, and began introducing them. “Emily Prentiss, Lydia Ambers. They’re child victim interview experts.”

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be the need to invent a job called child victim interview expert?” Cyrus wondered.

“We wish we didn’t have to be here,” Emily said.

“So do we. But you are welcome, nonetheless. The children are in the school as I indicated.”

“Thank you.”

Lydia nodded and followed Emily off to the school building.

~ ~ ~

Jessica Evanson was not the kid they were looking for. Lydia could tell the moment she walked into the interview room. She was completely calm, the perfect child. Her hair was neatly brushed back, her polo shirt well ironed, and her hands folded neatly in front of her.

Her mother, Kathy, stood beside her, petting her hair gently, as if to reassure her, but Jessica clearly didn’t need it. She wasn’t intimidated by their presence at all.

“We go to school. We do our chores. And we treat ourselves and each other with the respect God demands.”

Emily sat across from her, conducting the interview, and Lydia stood beside her.

“But you’ve never been off of the ranch?” Emily asked.

“I brought Jessie here when she was two,” Kathy explained.

Jessica clearly was not having any of this. “You’ve talked to lots of children in your work. Tell me, are their lives somehow better than ours?”

“We devote ourselves to God,” Kathy continued. “That doesn’t mean we’re not devoted to our children.”

“We are not here because of your religious beliefs,” Emily reasoned.

“Why are you here?” Jessica demanded.

She was starting to become hostile. She grew up in a cult that taught her to hate outsiders, so Lydia couldn’t blame her for her behavior. But her mother was clearly a peacemaker, so where did she learn it from? It wasn’t defiance from her family, because that would put her against the group, not for it.

“We received a phone call alleging that an adult male member of your church was having inappropriate relations with the younger women here.”

“You’re talking about Cyrus,” she responded, almost immediately.

“What makes you say that?” Emily asked.

Her mother immediately became defensive, trying to get her daughter to be quiet, but Jessica was still determined to make a point.

“Is it inappropriate for a husband to share a bed with his wife?”

Lydia’s eyes shot open.  _ His what? _

“You are married to Cyrus?” Emily spoke slowly, as if worried that the question would escalate the situation, but Jessica stayed proper in stance, if not in tongue.

“Yes. Cyrus is my husband and a prophet. It’s an honor to bear his children.”

It took everything in Lydia not to look disgusted by the thought and keep the interview going. “Jessica, you aren’t old enough to get married without parental consent.”

Emily nodded at the mother. “She gave consent.”

Before anyone could continue, a loud sound from outside got their attention. There was some yelling and suddenly Cyrus and a few other men were rushing in, machine guns in hand.

Lydia let her shock show on her face. Not just that they had the weapons, but that they would carry them around a school where CPS workers were present.

“Get up!” Cyrus demanded, turning on her and Emily. “Get up! Move!”

On the other side of the room, Nancy was entertaining the other kids. “What’s going on?” she asked softly.

“We just got a very strange phone call from a news reporter,” Cyrus began and a man walked around Emily and started to pat her down for weapons.

They were both unarmed, but Lydia was starting to regret that. These men were clearly threatened by their presence.  _ What the hell had happened? _

Another man walked around to check her and unceremoniously smacked her in the side, causing her to wince involuntarily. Cyrus clearly noticed this, but said nothing, continuing on with his point.

“Is there anything you want to tell me? About a raid, maybe?”

She and Emily exchanged a concerned look.  _ A raid?  _ They weren’t prepared for that. They had checked in with the state before joining child services to the ranch, there shouldn’t have been a raid on this church.

Luckily for them, Cyrus took their concern for fear and nodded. “They don’t know,” he determined. “Bring them along.”

A man grabbed Lydia’s arm and dragged her across the room, where another armed man was opening a hatch in the wall.  _ A tunnel. _ A few guards went first, then they started ushering the people in. Women with their kids, Nancy, Emily, and Lydia all surrounded by machine guns, leaping into a dark hole underneath the church.

The passage underneath the buildings was too thin to walk side by side, so the guards let them go on by themselves.

“What’s going on?” Nancy whispered to the two FBI members ahead of her.

“We’re not sure yet,” Emily hissed. “Just stay calm.”

As they reached a large opening directly underneath the chapel, they could hear gunfire from above ground.

Prentiss pulled Lydia aside, trying to get as far away from the crowd as possible. “If this escalates, Cyrus is going to put this place on lockdown. The FBI is going to be in charge of negotiations as long as we’re inside. Do you know the Critical Incident Response Group handbook?”

Lydia shook her head quickly. God, it would be helpful if Spencer were here. He probably knew that book front and back. Lydia didn’t know what she was doing.

“Okay.” Emily fumbled, trying to determine what was important for Lydia to know before they had to revert back to their covers. “CIRG will bug all the windows and anything else they can get to. So, anything you need them to know, find a way to say it out loud. Keep the inside members talking. We won’t be able to know what the team already knows so tell them everything. If there are blinds on a window, they might be blocking the sound, so try and get them out of the way before speaking.”

“Best hope it doesn’t come to that,” Lydia argued, but the sound of the gunfire overhead was diminishing her hopes of getting out any time soon. She just hoped Spencer didn’t know what was going on.

At the sound of Cyrus’s voice, the two girls stepped away from one another, trying to blend in with the crowd.

“Alright! Move quietly! Quickly, go to the left! Everybody stay together!” he ordered, pushing his way through the room. “Children, listen to your parents. Have faith.”

“Where did these guns come from?” Emily whispered hurriedly and Lydia glanced around her to see what she was looking at.

Wooden crates lined the walls, each labelled as bullets or magazines. Leaning into the corners were more machine guns. Buckets of them.

“I thought Garcia checked with the state police to see if they were involved in…” Lydia trailed off, not sure how to frame the inquiry, but luckily Emily was on the same page.

“Someone lied to us. You don’t just lose track of these weapons, not when you’re already watching this group.”

“At least the raid is unrelated to the FBI,” Lydia reasoned. “Our cover is still intact. But you’re right… someone from the Colorado government just ruined their career. Once we’re back in Quantico, Hotch is going to lose his shit.”

Lunde approached the two of them once more. “This is ridiculous,” she sneered.

“It’s okay,” Emily tried again. “Just calm down.”

Cyrus continued to reassure his followers, telling them that God would look out for them as long as they stayed calm.

Once he had disappeared, Nancy was arguing with them once more. “It’s the state police. I’m an officer of the state.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do right now.”

“I can talk to him.”

“No!” Emily rushed after her but Nancy was already halfway through the crowd of people. “You can’t. It’s dangerous. Nancy, stop!”

The woman rushed out of the room and before the two of them could follow, one of the guards blocked their way. The other went after Nancy, but she was booking it back up to the ground level of the chapel.

_ Shit. This was starting to look… bad. _

She stood next to Emily at the front of the group, anxiously waiting for the battle to cease, but the hail of bullets above them never slowed. After a minute or two, Cyrus came stumbling back down the stairs.

“Do not fear! We are on the side of the righteous.”

Behind him was the guard that went after Nancy, but no Nancy herself.

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked him.

“It wasn’t us.”

“What?!” Lydia screeched, then quickly lowered her voice, seeing the attention she had attracted. “You can’t shoot it out with the cops! You have children here!”

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus argued back.

Emily was clearly distraught watching him reload his gun, then take off with the rest of the men to the roof.

“The BAU is coming,” she whispered.

~ ~ ~

“Reid!”

JJ’s voice reached Spencer from the center of the bullpen and he looked up from his email curiously. “Hm?”

Her eyes were on the TV she was in the process of starting up and he noticed that Morgan was also looking up at it intently. It lit up in the middle of a news report.

“... _ a routine questions and answers meeting by Colorado child services- _ ”

_ Colorado… that’s where Lydia and Prentiss were… _

“ _ -has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Separtarian Sect. _ ”

Spencer jumped up, joining Morgan and JJ in the middle of the room, his mind still not coming to terms with what was happening.

“JJ,” Morgan breathed, standing up, his eyes not leaving the TV, “That’s not the ranch where Prentiss and Ambers-”

“They’re still inside,” she said, softly.

Spencer’s legs almost gave out underneath him.

“ _ HOTCH! _ ” Morgan screamed.

The unit chief was rushing out a moment later to see what was going on, but Spencer didn’t pay him any attention. His eyes were glued to the screen in front of him.  _ Where’s Lydia? Where’s Lydia? Where’s Lydia??? _

“ _...While no one knows for sure how many people are inside, it is believed that at least three of the child service members are still trapped within the compound. _ ”

~ ~ ~

Spencer sat on the couch of the jet, his head in his hands, listening intently to the ongoing news report on Morgan’s laptop.

“ _...turned deadly when the Colorado state police officers tried to serve a warrant. Colorado Attorney General Jim Wells says the reclusive cult has been the subject of a 6-month weapons investigation. _ ”

“Six months,” Morgan repeated. “We didn’t check?”

“No. We checked,” JJ argued. “I had ATF  _ call  _ Wells. He told ATF there were no pending state investigations. He lied.”

“Why?” Rossi demanded.

“Wells is challenging the governor in the next election. He thought that ATF was about to poach his big election-launching weapons bust,” JJ explained. “Now, it’s clear he didn’t know there were FBI agents there. He just thought the best time to serve a state warrant was when the kids were safe inside the school being interviewed.”

“ _ Agent _ ,” Spencer corrected quietly, his head finally lifting from his own grasp.

“What was that?” JJ asked.

“There aren’t ‘FBI  _ agents’  _ in there. There’s only one.”

It seemed to slip everyone’s mind that Lydia wasn’t an agent. They looked around nervously, noticing the edge in Spencer’s voice as he corrected them. Hotch was the first one to speak up.

“Ambers may not be an agent, but she’s not a civilian, Reid. She can look out for herself.”

“The FBI only worries about their own,” Spencer hissed.

“She  _ is  _ one of our own,” Morgan fired back. “We’re going to get her out of there, just like Prentiss.”

“Just like all of the hostages,” Hotch continued.

Not wanting to argue more, Spencer nodded at him, then jumped up from his seat and walked to the back of the plane, unable to listen to any more. The media wouldn’t be able to tell him what he wanted to know, anyway.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ called as she approached him at the refreshment table. “I know you’re worried about Lydia, but we need your help on this case. You gotta stay focused, okay?”

“JJ, she’s in the middle of a deadly standoff and she’s still recovering from getting shot last May. Injured tissue takes months to repair itself and it’s going to take even longer for her to regain abdominal strength.”

“I’m sure that she’s safe inside the church with the other hostages.”

“Even if that’s true, I-” He shook his head. “I always seem to be away from her when she needs me most. When that bomb went off in Annandale, when Sonia had a stroke, when Frank got her… Why does it always feel like I can’t reach her?”

JJ sighed, contemplating his question. “I don’t know, Spence. I wish I did.”

~ ~ ~

Once the police had fallen back, Cyrus brought the two of them into a seperate room. Clearly he wasn’t sure how to deal with outsiders being barricaded in with his people. As him and his men tried to assess the damage done to the church and get people back inside, Emily was prepping Lydia for the worst.

“Don’t antagonize them,” she tried to reason. “I know you’re not a fan, but we need to know everything we can. They won’t tell you anything if they don’t think they can trust you.”

“There are two ways to find things out, Em.”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was sprinkled with annoyance. Emily knew that Lydia tended to be very blunt. She didn’t need to worry about Cyrus killing Lydia when she was supposed to be helping the team get these people out.

“You keep Cyrus’s favor. But someone here doesn’t believe him, or else we wouldn’t have gotten that phone call. They’re going to seek us out.”

It wasn’t a terrible plan, she realized. One of them learn from the higher ups, the other speak to the underdogs. “You want to play two different sides?”

Lydia nodded. “For the time being.”

“Okay. That means we have to distance ourselves, though. Act unfamiliar with one another.”

“Brief me faster, then.”

She was on top of it from that point on. “The hostage negotiator’s job is to slowly get the women and children out. They want as few innocent people inside when they raid. But if they think anyone inside is in danger, they’ll come in, no matter what. We can speak to them through the mics on the windows, but they have no way of talking to us. So if we need to know anything, they’ll tell us through other means. Look out for signs from them. They’ll be listening to our every word…”

~ ~ ~

Hotch had put Rossi in charge of being the lead negotiator, in the hopes that he was both objective enough to not be blinded by his care for Prentiss and Ambers, but also knew them well enough to predict how they’d react while still inside.

Frankly, Spencer wasn’t sure he could do either. He hoped that Lydia would play it safe, but a part of him knew that she was just too impulsive.

The entire team gathered around as Rossi made his first call to the church, waiting to find out what happened to their friends.

“ _ You killed my mommy and daddy. Are you going to kill me too? _ ”

A kid. A little girl had answered the phone. It wasn’t surprising that Cyrus had set something like this up, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

“No one is going to kill you, honey,” Rossi said calmly.

Then, there was a shift. A new voice. “ _ This is Benjamin Cyrus. Who am I talking to? _ ”

“David Rossi. I’m an FBI agent. We sent the state police away. There’s just us and the local sheriff. All we wanna do is resolve this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“ _ Then leave us alone. _ ”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin. One of the police bled out on the way to the hospital. So let’s just stop this before things get worse. Please, just put down your guns and come out.”

“ _ We’re believers, Dave. We believe God says what he means and means what he says. His laws don’t depend on what state you live in. _ ”

“I have no issue with your beliefs.”

“ _ You don’t, but the state does. _ ”

This was taking too long. Spencer needed to make sure they were okay. He needed to make sure  _ Lydia  _ was okay.

“I can’t answer for other people.”

“ _ Oh, God will answer for everyone in the final battle I’ve foreseen. _ ”

“That’s why I’m here. To make sure that  _ this  _ is not that battle.”

“ _ We shall see. _ ”

“Now, the three child service workers...” 

“ _ One of them is dead _ .”

Everyone’s heads shot up. Dead.  _ Dead _ …

“ _ It wasn’t us. _ ”

Rossi leaned away from the phone, trying to take in a deep breath before continuing. “I need a name to inform the family.”

“ _ Her name was Nancy Lunde. _ ”

The relief between them was almost a solid entity, letting their eyelids hang heavy as they realized neither of their friends had died. But someone had.

“Okay. Now, please, Benjamin, send out your wounded. I promise you they’ll be well taken care of.”

“ _ With enough supplies we can tend to our own. _ ”

“Okay. I need a few hours to put it together. I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

With news that supplies was coming, Cyrus hung up the phone and the rest of the team was left to ponder what to do now.

~ ~ ~

Lydia and Emily didn’t know much about their situation until the next morning. Everyone was assembled in the chapel to pray. Cyrus had sent the two of them to the end of a row of chairs, trapped in by the wall. Not that there was any point in running anyway. There were men at all exits, guns at the ready.

A soft knocking came from the church entrance and to Lydia’s surprise, Cyrus opened the door. It was difficult to see at first, with all the armed men surrounding him, but after a moment of discussion, Lydia was able to make out Rossi walking through the front door, a box of bandages in his arms.

Despite everything Emily had told her, Lydia could feel a twist in her heart. The BAU was right outside. Spencer was here.

_ Dear lord, he was never going to let her leave their apartment again. _

Lydia reminded herself to steady her facial expressions. Cyrus had no suspicions of their connection to the FBI yet and she wasn’t about to give him any. She silently prayed that whatever Rossi was bringing in was bugged, so that she wouldn’t have to make sure all the important dialogue happened by a window.

They took his supplies, patted him down, and then Cyrus walked him down the center isle. Lydia couldn’t make out much of their conversation, but it seemed like Rossi was trying to convince Cyrus to let some people go.

Their discussion took all of about 30 seconds, then Cyrus was ushering him back out the door. With Rossi gone, Cyrus started giving instructions to his right hand man, Cole, then indicated for Lydia and Emily to get up.

The two of them exchanged a look before standing and walking to the back of the chapel.

“We’re going to have communion,” Cyrus informed them. “Feel free to stand and watch for the time being.”

They nodded politely, noticing Cole at the front with a jug of wine and stacks of plastic cups. A few of the men went around, passing them out while Cyrus poured each person a sip of wine.

“We are celebrating,” he announced. “Everyone drinks. Everyone rejoices. Because today we are one day closer to being with Him.”

“Look at Jessica’s body language,” Emily whispered. “The way she looks at him.”

Lydia nodded. “She literally worships him. There’s no way she made that 911 call.”

“Trust in God with all your heart. Lean not on your own understandings. Trust in mine.”

As Cyrus kept talking, Kathy stood up and walked over to the row her daughter was sitting in, leaning over her and speaking quietly. Jessica tried multiple times to nod and turn her attention back to Cyrus, but her mother kept talking.

“Look at how she comes between Cyrus and her daughter,” Emily continued. “She’s inserted herself between them.”

“Acknowledge Him in all things and He will guide your way. Drink to acknowledge him and I will guide our way.”

Everyone lifted their cups together and followed Cyrus in raising it to their mouths. Men, women, and children alike drank the entirety of their share and watched him intently.

“We will be with him soon. We have drank the poison together.”

Lydia was almost too distracted by the audience's reactions to comprehend what this meant. Some seemed completely calm, maybe even relieved. While others gasped or looked around wildly. It was easy to see a line between the diehard believers and the… less-so believers.

“Mothers… Fathers… Children… Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we fear no evil. For thou art with us. And God will wipe the tears from their eyes, and there will be no more death nor sorrow nor crying. And there will be no more pain. For all of the former things have passed away.”

Some families grouped together, mothers holding tight to their kids. A few of the loners cried silently while the rest nodded to Cyrus in admiration. It was a wild array of people he’d collected.

“What do we do?” Emily hissed.

Lydia blinked, beginning to realize that the team was probably thinking the same thing. They wanted to save these people. If the bugs were working, they could hear Cyrus announce their imminent death.

“I don’t think he’s telling the truth,” Lydia admitted, looking Emily in the eyes.

She looked frantic. Her instinct to help was kicking in, but there was no way for her to act on it. “What makes you so sure?”

“Look at Cole.” She nodded up to the stage. “He’s writing in a notebook. I think Cyrus told him to make note of the people who had a bad reaction to the news.”

Emily’s gaze followed that of Lydia’s. At that point, both Cole and Cyrus were scanning the crowd. “They’re writing down the names of the people who are crying,” Emily realized.

“It’s a loyalty list,” Lydia finished out. “He wants to know who will follow him to the end.”

“Be still.” Cyrus’s voice broke through their conversation just in time to confirm their theories. “There was no poison. Instead a test of faith. Because your adversary, the Devil, walketh about as a roaring lion! Choosing whom he may devour. Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother’s keeper.”

“What’s he going to do with those that the Devil has devoured?” Lydia asked slowly, but Emily shook her head, not ready to consider it yet.

~ ~ ~

“You exhausted yet?” Emily asked jokingly as the two of them lay up against the stone walls of the basement. Cyrus had brought the two of them back down there a few hours ago and left them on their own.

“You’ll excuse me if I didn't get much sleep last night,” Lydia shot back. “A cement bomb shelter isn’t exactly my idea of comfort.”

“No kidding.” She was on the opposite wall, one leg propped up on the wooden bench she had taken. “You should try to get some sleep now. We don’t know how long we’ll be here. I’d rather have you well rested when the raid starts.”

“I would try, but-”

They swiftly stopped their discussion as the sound of footsteps echoed through the halls. Cyrus was at the door and he looked pissed.

“Ambers. Stand up.”

Her and Emily shared a curious look, but she did as he said and got up from her bench.

“Lift up your shirt,” he ordered.

“What the  _ hell? _ ” she demanded, but Cyrus had already stepped between her and Emily, reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling it up above her waist. “ _ Hey! what are you-? _ ”

“That’s what I thought,” he grumbled. “Child interviewers don’t often get shot, do they?”

Lydia glanced down nervously at the bullet wound on her side. She had seen the weird look he gave her when his men had searched her and hit it painfully, but she never would have thought it would lead to blowing her cover.

“I don’t know why you…”

Dropping the front of her shirt, he reached up and grabbed a chunk of her hair, pulling her head back painfully. “We just got word that there was an undercover FBI agent in our midst. Care to explain that?”

Lydia hissed through gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

“You’re not CPS, are you?”

His grip was getting stronger by the minute. She didn’t like the idea of blowing her cover, but he already knew it was one of them. Might as well let him think it was only her.

“No. You were right,” she admitted. “I work for the FBI.”

Now, Lydia didn’t expect him to thank her for her honesty and let her go, but it still came as a shock when he walked off, while  _ still holding her hair. _ Her feet were immediately yanked out from underneath her, not prepared enough to steady herself, but Cyrus just kept going, not deterred in the slightest by her weight.

Lydia groaned, her hands wrapped around his wrist in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure, but it did very little. Luckily he didn’t take her very far, throwing her down on the ground inside a nearby supply closet.

“I told you not to put me in this position!”

She moved to look up at him, but he was faster, swinging an arm up to her chin and knocking her down onto her back. Upon her next attempt to stand, she received a swift kick in the stomach.

“ _ Ugh _ .” Her left side lit on fire in an instant and she stayed on the ground, her arms and legs wrapping protectively around her abdomen.

“Get up!” Cyrus sneered.

He reached for one of her arms and pulled her to her feet. Lydia flinched away from him as he threw an arm above his head and brought it down against the side of her face. There was a mirror on the wall behind her which shattered as her right arm moved to steady herself.

“Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil.” As he said this, he held her still against the broken mirror so that she could see herself.

It wasn’t until she physically saw the blood dripping from her nose that she could taste its warmth on the edges of her mouth. The temple that he hit was tinged pink, but from the way it ached, Lydia knew it would be a dark purple by evening. And her right arm, which was still lodged in the remaining pieces of the mirror was staining the white sleeve of her shirt.

She shrieked as he threw her backwards again, running into the shelf of canned goods against the opposite wall.

_ The BAU is listening, _ she remembered. And Emily said that if they thought someone was in danger, they’d begin the raid.

They needed to prepare. They hadn’t gotten any of the children out yet. If the team could hear her and decided to come in prematurely, a lot of people would die. Lydia wasn’t about to let that happen.

There was a window towards the back of the closet she was in. She could only hope that Spencer was listening.

“Careful.” Her voice was shaky and unconvincing, but she made sure Cyrus saw the anger in her eyes. This message wasn’t for him. “Hit me too hard and everyone will see the bruises on your knuckles.”

“No one is going to care,” he replied calmly. “You came here to shut us down! I’m protecting them!”

“From me?” Her laugh came out almost maniacal with her bruised stomach and battered jaw. “I’m fine! I got bruises on my knuckles too! I can take it!”

“Pride comes before the fall.”

His next blow sent her into the metal shelf again, this time her skull ricocheting against one of the sides and knocking her to the floor. She was just able to see a few drops of blood land on the ground below her, though she couldn’t identify where exactly on her face they came from, before her arms shakily gave out and her cheek hit the cold cement.

She prayed silently to whoever may be listening that Spencer understood. She really hoped she didn’t face all that torment in vain.

~ ~ ~

“We’ve got audio!” Morgan called from across their tent set up.

Spencer ran as fast as he could to the panel controlling the microphone feedback, throwing on a set of headphones.

Hotch hadn’t let him do anything for the past day, claiming he was the most emotionally involved in the situation. And although he couldn’t argue with that fact, it killed him to sit and listen. Lydia was right there. She was in the building just over that hill. And he wasn’t allowed to see her, talk to her, call her, save her.

When the fact that an FBI agent was in the church hit the news, Spencer felt an anchor drop to the bottom of his stomach. She wasn’t even an agent. There was nothing to suggest Cyrus would target her. But his instincts screamed that Emily wouldn’t be the one in danger.

And unfortunately, he was right. When he set those headphones over his ears, he immediately recognized Lydia’s voice. She was moaning in pain.

“We gotta go in,” Hotch said, but Rossi stopped him from throwing off his headphones.

“We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.”

“ _ Get up! _ ” Cyrus’s words were followed by a crashing noise, like glass shattering.

_ Please be okay. Please don’t let it be as bad as it sounds. _

“ _ Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil. _ ”

There was more struggling over the line and Spencer threw off his headphones, unable to bear it any more. She was in pain. He knew this would happen.

“How could you let this happen?” he demanded of Hotch. “We have to go in! She’s not-”

“ _ Sh! Sh! _ ” Rossi hissed, one hand over his earpiece, the other between the unit chief and the boy.

Both looked at him confused, but he just kept listening silently.

“ _ Everyone will see the bruises on your knuckles _ ,” he finally recited. “Does that mean anything to you?”

Spencer didn’t answer, but put his headphones back on swiftly.

“- _ protecting them! _ ”

“ _ From me? _ ” Lydia’s laugh sounded more like a wail over the mic. “ _ I’m fine! I got bruises on my knuckles too! I can take it! _ ”

“She’s antagonizing him!” Morgan exclaimed, frustratedly.

“She’s not talking to him,” Rossi argued.

“ _ Pride comes before the fall. _ ”

There was one more grunt, then the line went quiet. When Spencer finally breathed in again, all eyes were on him.

“She gets bruises on her knuckles when she lets off steam on a case,” he explained quietly. “I always worry for her, but she says she’d rather hurt her hands for a little bit then do something rash or detrimental on a case.”

“So what she’s saying is-”

“Don’t come in,” he finished begrudgingly. “She’s telling us not to go in.”

~ ~ ~

Cole had to basically carry her to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Every breath was agony for her lungs and a violent sting for her nose and mouth. And she figured it was psychosomatic, but her bullet wound hurt as if she’d just been shot yet again.

_ Who would have thought this whole hostage thing could get ten times worse? _

Cole tied her arms to the sides of the bed, though frankly, she didn’t think she’d have the abdominal strength to sit back up anyway. And she didn’t want to try.

Kathy Evanson came by with a washcloth to clean the blood away from her nose, mouth, and temple. She tried to warn Lydia against lying to Cyrus, to which Lydia snapped back, “Do you speak from personal experience?”

Kathy didn’t say another word before standing up and leaving. It was a clear sign that she was hiding something and Lydia could only hope Emily caught onto that too. ‘Cause Lydia… she wasn’t going anywhere fast.

Downstairs, Cyrus had pulled Emily into his office, using some of his only medical supplies to disinfect the tiny abrasions in his hand from his fight with Lydia.

“Did you know she was FBI?” he demanded, as Cole shut the door behind the three of them.

Emily quickly shook her head, but her heart was in her stomach with fear for Lydia. Lydia was strong. She could take a lot. But she was also far too defiant to make this easy on herself. Emily silently wished she’d been smart.

“Nancy told me the woman was a child abuse interview expert from Denver.” Emily hated to put the blame on someone else, but Cyrus couldn’t hurt Nancy anymore. Nancy was gone. Lydia was still here and if Emily made her sound worse, it could fuel Cyrus’s anger towards her. “In the 4 years I worked with her, Nancy had never lied to me before.”

“As far as you know,” Cyrus replied. “Their law says that a 15-year-old girl is a child. Fifty years ago, that same law said a 14-year-old was an adult. Have children changed so much in 50 years?”

_ No, but people have, _ Emily thought. It was frustrating. Hotch had chosen Lydia because she was so good at acting calm. At least… in the workplace. She could have any unsub they met trust her entirely, or keep them constantly on their toes. Now, Emily could act, but she couldn’t do that.

If anyone’s cover should have been blown, it should have been hers. Emily knew more about CIRG protocols. She could diffuse a situation. Acting like she wasn’t totally disgusted by Cyrus’s morals was not in her skill set.

“I think it’s a matter of trust. People have stopped believing that kids can make good decisions, they’ve stopped believing in selfless acts, and they stopped putting their trust and faith into God.”

Her appeal seemed to work. Cyrus looked intrigued. She hoped it would hold long enough to make a good argument in her favor. Now was the perfect time to build up Cyrus’s trust with the FBI, because he had brought in the medical supplies Rossi had given them. There was absolutely no way that the BAU wasn’t listening.

“On your next call, you should test them. Test the negotiator. Make him prove that he isn’t a liar.”

“How would you suggest I do that?”

“Ask for the identity of the FBI agent.”

Cole looked unamused. “No. We already know her identity.”

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but Cyrus beat her to it. “They don’t know that.”

“Yeah. But the FBI would never tell us.”

“They keep asking you to release people,” Emily argued. “Tell them you’ll release a kid and you won’t harm the agent. If they really care about the children, they’ll have to tell you.”

“You’re trying to get us to release a child!” Cole accused.

“It’s one kid! If they don’t hold up on their end of the deal, then you know they can’t be trusted!”

“She has a point,” Cyrus conceded much to Emily’s relief. “What is it, Christopher?”

Emily glanced over her shoulder to find Cole pacing the room.

“Some people have been talking about… leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah.”

Cyrus glanced at his hands. “Wake the baby. Let’s let them meet the orphan that they’ve made.”

~ ~ ~

Cole held onto Lydia’s shoulder’s firmly as he led her back to the chapel. She’d been dozing for most of the day, unable to move from her bed, so her ability to process the situation was hazy.

Cyrus had everyone gathered in the pews. “It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in God. That they no longer love us. They want to abandon us. So, when I call out your name, please stand.”

Cole left her leaning up against one of the back walls as he went to usher the last of the people in and that’s when Lydia noticed Emily eyeing her, slowly creeping closer and closer while still looking as if she was listening to Cyrus.

“He looks pissed,” Lydia whispered to her when she was close enough. “He’s choosing the people who failed the loyalty test.”

“I’m so sorry,” was all Emily could say.

“Em, I’m okay,” she snapped, more forcefully than she meant. She knew she wasn’t okay. “You need to stay focused and tell me what to do. What does this mean?”

Emily cleared her throat quietly. “He’s releasing these people, because he knows it’s over. He’s getting rid of any possible threat to his mass suicide plan. I’ll try and figure out when it is and get word to the team. Be ready. There’s going to be a raid tonight.”

~ ~ ~

“Drugging the food’s not an option because of the children,” Hotch was saying as they passed around tubs of fried chicken. “We have to go in.”

“Best time to hit ‘em is when they’re least mentally prepared,” Rossi added.

“3 AM.” All eyes turned on Reid. “Biorhythms are at their low point then.”

“Reid, I told you to stay with JJ,” Hotch argued, already on his way to lead Spencer out of the room, but he stood firm.

“Please let me help. I can’t just sit here and pray that she’s going to walk back out of there. I need to do something.”

There was a moment of silent tension between the two of them. Hotch didn’t want him to go. Technically, he  _ shouldn’t  _ let him go. But he didn’t have the time to argue, and Spencer would no doubt be helpful when it came to setting up this plan.

“The plan depends on Ambers and Prentiss separating the diehards from the followers,” Hotch continued, turning back to the group.

“And delaying Cyrus’s diehards from reacting to our assault,” Morgan said.

“No, that’s not my main concern. Ambers and Prentiss know what they need to do. I don’t know how to tell them when we’re coming. This whole thing hinges on them being ready for us at 3 AM.”

“Reid? What the hell are you doing?”

Hotch and Rossi followed Morgan’s gaze to the young genius who was covering the top of one of the food trays with red sharpie.

When he stepped back, the tray read, ‘New owners! New hours! Open ‘til 3 AM!’ The time was underlined multiple times.

“They’ll recognize my writing,” he promised. “Just write this on a few different plates so that there’s a better chance they’re near someone with a sign.”

“Let’s just hope it’s that easy,” Morgan grumbled.

~ ~ ~

Lydia watched curiously as Emily slipped into her room and carefully shut the door. She wasn’t sure how Emily had gotten away from Cyrus’s men, but she was positive something big was happening, else she wouldn’t have taken such a risk.

“3 AM,” she said, reaching the bed and helping Lydia sit up. “We need to get all the women and children down to the basement before 3.”

Lydia had no clue what time it was, only that the sky was completely dark and their time frame was getting shorter. “Find Kathy,” she told Emily. “I’m pretty sure she made that 911 call.”

“Pretty sure?”

“She’s hiding something,” Lydia admitted. “But no, I’m not positive that that’s it.”

The unease was more than a little scary, but there wasn’t much else for them to do. These people wouldn’t trust her or Emily. The only way to save them was to find someone they trusted.

“Stay here. I’ll be back for you before 3.”

“Don’t get caught.”

~ ~ ~

“They’re setting the place to blow up,” Kathy said as she ran into Lydia’s room.

Lydia’s heart fell. “Where’s Emily?” she demanded.

“I told Jessie that Cyrus wanted the two of them to gather the women and children. She’s leading them to the basement now,” she explained, untying the ropes on Lydia’s wrists.

_ Oh, thank god. _ Lydia thought for sure when Emily didn’t come back that she’d been caught.

“It’s 2:45. We’ve got to hurry.”

Kathy pulled Lydia along by her arm, Lydia’s other hand wrapped around her waist. Her entire torso burned as she ran down the stairs towards the basement. _ Almost out. This was almost over. _

The sound of gunfire was muted through the walls and Lydia didn’t have time to place where it was coming from.

_ Get out. Get out. _

As they were reaching the door, Lydia could see Emily leading the group into the basement.

“Let’s go! This way!”

“Let’s go, kids!”

“This building’s going to blow up!”

There was shouting in all directions. Lydia’s legs barely held her steady as she ran alongside Kathy. The only thing that was keeping her from passing out was Spencer. He was just outside. She needed to see him.

“Lydia!” She looked up as she passed through the door frame and found herself face to face with Morgan. She didn’t have time to open her mouth before he had pulled her into his shoulder. “I’m going to kill Cyrus.”

“You don’t have long,” she said, almost jokingly, but the timing was badly placed. Not a moment later, the ground and walls began to shake and a deafening sound filled the basement.

Everyone still inside hit the floor, protecting their heads from possible falling debris, but the ceiling was solid. Lydia had been through earthquakes before, and she’d survived an explosion, but this was somehow worse than both. She felt so claustrophobic she didn’t even try to breathe, out of fear she’d find herself unable too. For many seconds, she stayed on the floor, unable to tell if the rumbling had stopped.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” She didn’t realize it was Emily who was talking until Morgan and Rossi were helping her off the ground. “That was the explosives. If Cyrus planned a second round, the basement might crumble too.”

The four of them made a run for the secret door in the school, Lydia now holding onto Rossi for support, so that Derek could lead the group and make sure the rest of the kids got out.

“How’s Spencer?” she asked as they climbed back into the school building.

“I imagine Hotch has got at least seven guys holding him down right now to keep him from running into the rubble to find you. How are you?”

Lydia didn’t want to answer that. Not only was she in a lot of physical pain, but after that explosion went off above her, her heart rate had been soaring.

Everyone’s eyes were on the smoking ruble that was the chapel, amazed by the destruction. Many kids were crying and women were no doubt waiting to see if their husbands had survived. Rossi kept pulling Lydia along, not letting her stop to watch. They walked through the barricade of armed men with ease.

“ _ Lydia! Lydia! _ ”

It was Spencer. He was looking for her. Lydia tried to yell back, but Rossi could tell she didn’t have it in her.

“I’ve got her, Reid!”

Not too long after, she saw her boyfriend pushing through the crowd, his eyes looking around frantically.

When their eyes met, it was like Lydia’s whole world muted to a dull roar.  _ Three days. _ Three days she’d been trapped in that building, trying to reach the team and getting the shit kicked out of her. Three days she’d been quiet, accepting Cyrus’s blows. All to see him again.

She wanted to run to him, but she just didn’t have it in her. Luckily, he was eager enough for the both of them.

His arms were so tight around her that she felt like all her ribs would break at once and her nose was so deep in the side of his neck that the bruises burned. She couldn’t care less.

He pulled away all too fast and she was about to protest, when she realized why. As she looked up at him, a breeze hit her cheeks, making the wet trails going down her face apparent. She took in shuddering breaths.

She was crying.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say, the back of her hand reaching to wipe them away, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like they were gone. “Sorry, I can’t-”

Before she could finish, he leaned down and kissed her. He kissed her in front of the whole team. In front of everyone. He’d never done that before. PDA was a very rare thing for him. But all her shock died on her lips, suffocating between his own.

“I love you,” he whispered, barely moving an inch away. “I love you so very much. You don’t need to apologize for your tears.”

Such kind and affirming words should have quelled her tears, but she just sobbed harder. “I love you too. Please don’t ever leave me.”


	26. Reckless

Sitting on the jet, Lydia was really feeling the fatigue set in. The whole team huddled as far away from her and Spencer as possible, trying to give them space to talk.

And that immediately set off alarms in her head.

She hadn’t seen Spencer while she was hurting. Had something happened? She would have simply thought they wanted to let her rest, but they kept glancing over at her. Nervously.

“Hey. Honey…?”

She glanced at him, realizing that his thoughts were far from here and now.

“Spencer,” she said more forcefully. “I need you to listen to me. What happened to me was not your fault. Okay? I made that choice.”

“It’s funny…” He still wasn’t looking at her and suddenly Lydia realized she had yet to look at the wounds across her face. “Your dad actually said something to me when he was visiting.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “My dad got you alone?”

“He said, ‘Be careful with my daughter. I’m glad to see the two of you so happy, but in the end, Lydia’s been untouchable since her mother died. You can’t reach her. Not really.’”

The ache in her upper body disappeared, replaced by red, hot anger. “What an ass! He wants to rebuild our relationship so bad and then he-” She groaned. “He said basically the same thing to me. He was like ‘a boyfriend doesn’t seem like you. You’re too closed off.’ The hell does he know. He’s been in prison for 7 years.”

“He’s right though.”

“ _ Excuse me?! _ ”

For the first time in the whole flight, he looked her in the eyes. “I love you so much, Lydia. And I think you love me. But when it comes down to it, you don’t trust me.”

_ What the hell? _ “Of course I trust you-”

“I think it’s partly my fault,” he murmured. “I need to open myself up a bit more and show you how much I’d do for you. But that’s a two way street, you know. If you close yourself off, I’ll never get through to you. And I know how stubborn you are. You’ll keep refusing to open up to me until you don’t know anything else.”

“Suddenly you believe  _ my father _ more than me? I’m not hiding anything from you, Spencer!” She hated snapping at him, but her father was a sore subject for her. Always had been. The fact that Spencer had been hiding a conversation with him for months was scary to her. She didn’t have faith in her father to look after her interests anymore.

“This is the second time you’ve done something dangerous without telling anyone and barely come out the other side! The shot you took in New York is barely healed and you’re throwing yourselves at unsubs  _ again _ , still unarmed and unvested. You act like this self-sacrificial stuff is the only way, but it’s not. It’s why we work in a team. You aren’t talking to me.”

He could have punched her in the gut, bruised abdomen and all, and it probably would have hurt less.  _ Why were they still on different pages? _

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He simply shrugged, once again staring off into the distance. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

~ ~ ~

They barely talked for two days.

Lydia was once again in recovery mode, trying to rebuild some of the muscle in the stomach, but this event had set her back another couple of weeks in terms of bullet wound recovery. Ughhhh…

And her face was… purple, for starters. She was scared to leave the house in fear that kids would see her and scream. And it concerned her that the swelling wasn’t going down, although she’d been told it wouldn’t go away for at least a week. It felt unnatural for her face to be so… puffy.

She was poking it gently in the mirror one afternoon, trying to determine if the sensitivity had gone down when she heard Spencer get back from work.

She noticed that he was shuffling around the apartment and found it curious, seeing as the past few days, he had gone from the front door straight to the couch.

“Lydia?” She heard faintly.

“I’m in the bathroom,” she called back, leaning out the door as he walked into their attached bedroom.

“Hey… How are you feeling?”

She raised an eyebrow, suspiciously. “You’re acting weird. What’s this about?”

He sighed and threw his satchel onto the bed beside him, groaning in frustration. “I don’t know why I try easing into these tough conversations. You always see right through me.”

“It’s your own fault if I’m good at reading people. I learned from the best.” She stepped over to him. “Is this about our argument?”

“I don’t like avoiding each other,” he admitted. “Especially not when I know you’re hurting.”

“I’m not hurting,” she argued.

“Fine,” he hissed. “Then,  _ I’m _ hurting. And I want to talk to you about it and I can’t, cause we’re not talking.”

“You’re hurting?” Suddenly, her fear of starting another argument drifted away and her concerns rose. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” he began, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m really in love with this girl and I wanna be with her all the time, but I worry that I won’t be able to. I’m scared of losing her. So I feel like I should distance myself so that I don’t get hurt. What should I do?”

“Are you thinking about breaking up?” she asked, her voice low.

She had been afraid of this since getting off the jet and seeing the way he was dodging her attention. But she wanted him to be happy, so she wasn’t going to fight for him to stay if that’s what he wanted.

“No… Not yet. But I feel like we’ve been here before and if this argument didn’t work last time…”

She took a deep breath, exhaling a shaky relief that he didn’t plan on kicking her out. “I guess the real question, then, is how do we get through situations like this without always having this fight?”

“I’m always going to worry for you, Lydia,” he argued, repeating his words from when they decided to try dating again. “I love you too much to not want to do anything! But it’s like the Owen Savage case. We had guns on us, but at least we were together. I’m upset, because recently you run into danger and then you throw a wall up between us and you’re alone!”

“I wasn’t alone, Spence. Prentiss was there.”

“Fine! Then I was alone!” He was getting fed up and ran his fingers through his hair violently. “You realize that every time you’re in danger, Hotch makes me sit out. I’m helpless, useless, afraid-“

“Okay,” she interrupted, softly. “You’re right, I would hate that.”

“I don’t want to keep feeling that way! I know that you aren’t doing it intentionally, but we… our relationship can’t survive this way.”

“...okay…” she said again. “I can… there’s a way to fix this. And I’ll do everything I can. But in the end, Spencer, sometimes things will happen and I won’t be next to you. Can we please just… will you trust me to look out for myself until I can get to you again?”

He bit down on his bottom lip, standing up to her level. “I didn’t mean to say-“

“I know. But you’re right, I’m not throwing up walls between us because I don’t want you with me.” She huffed, putting her thoughts together as she spoke them aloud. “After my mom died, every time things got hard, I hurt other people. When Cyrus accused me of being a fed, I figured it was me or Emily.”

“That’s Emily’s decision, too-”

“I know!” She interrupted again. “But Spencer, I’ve been doing this for years. Dealing with things on my own. I am  _ good _ at it. If something happens, you need to trust that I’ll come out the other end. And then, Hotch and I will trust that you’ll do the smart thing. I’ll trust you not to rush into a hostage situation that could easily get you and dozens of innocent people hurt.”

“I just wanted… I couldn’t deal with us being alone again. I couldn’t-“ As he finished, he looked right into her eyes and his voice broke off, the first of a sea of tears streaming down his face.

He dropped his head down so that she wouldn’t be able to see them as well, but unfortunately for him, he was too tall to evade her line of sight and she immediately stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his back and letting him cry into her hair.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out or bear Cyrus’s anger alone. It was a dumb mistake to play into what he wanted. But I thought it was the only way to protect Emily at the time.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. I’m sorry for fighting over this.”

She shook her head quickly. “We’ve needed to talk about this for a while. I’m glad we did. We’re a bit too similar-“

“You mean, reckless?”

“-when others are in trouble,” she continued, trying to be a bit gentler with her wording.

“So, what you’re saying is, we need to be reckless together?”

“Reckless together,” she agreed with a giggle.


	27. The Instincts (S4E6)

It took a few weeks of just talking. About anything and everything with each other. But Spencer was finally certain that Lydia was his other half. 

They were just so similar. It was eerie to him, because ever since he’d met her he’d thought she was everything he wasn’t: outgoing, brave, and impulsive. But in all the ways that mattered, they were exactly the same. Ambitious and moral and smart. And all his fears and anxieties couldn’t keep him from loving that about her. The good and the bad. They were perfectly matched in their passion and their stubbornness.

Eventually, Spencer had to leave for yet another case and it turned out to be far more difficult than he had foreseen. Upon boarding the jet, he’d fallen asleep, which was unusual enough as was. But he was woken up from a very strange nightmare by Rossi, who was concerned about him mumbling in his sleep.

He had almost forgotten entirely about his dream by that evening. The case they were working was a child abductor case. The unsub had kidnapped a 5-year-old boy and called the parents to torment them once or twice, before suffocating the child seven days later. They had just taken another boy, by the name of Michael Bridges.

Hotch had ordered Reid and Morgan to stay with the family that night in case they received another phone call. So Spencer and his coworker were drifting off on the couches downstairs when something caught his eye.

There was a door in the hallway parallel to the stairs. He could have sworn that hadn’t been there when they arrived, but nonetheless, he felt compelled to go check it out.

Quietly getting up, he walked over and found that the new discovery led down to a basement. As he stepped down, he reached for his gun, a sinking feeling coming over him.

The basement was for the most part empty. Directly across from the entrance was a washer and dryer, their bright white color standing out against the beige walls. And just peeking out behind the washer were two tiny feet with jeans and black tennis shoes on.

Spencer approached, but stopped short before he could see any more of the body. At the sound of footsteps, he turned and found Morgan and Rossi behind him. He didn’t for a moment question why Rossi was there.

“We couldn’t find any evidence of forced entry.”

“Why would that matter?” Spencer asked. Something was wrong. Everything about this was insanely familiar. He’d been here before. Seen this before.

“‘Cause it means he most likely knew his attacker,” Morgan argued, but at that point, Spencer had stopped listening.

There were strange lumps forming on his chest. Ripping open the front of his button down, he was horrified to find multiple leeches attached to his torso.

“Get them off me!” he shrieked. “Morgan, get them off me! Morgan!”

“Reid!” Morgan’s voice was fainter than he remembered. Morgan was right behind him, wasn’t he? “Reid! Wake up! It’s Morgan.”

Spencer’s eyes flew open and found himself back on the couch of the Bridges home, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. Morgan had turned on a nearby lamp and was hovering over him, concern filling his face.

It was the same dream he’d had on the jet. The only difference was the first time he’d woken up trying to get JJ’s unborn baby off the scene and this time, he’d woken up while covered in leeches. Reid didn’t believe in dream analysis… but why did it change?

“What the hell’s going on?” Mr. Bridges demanded, him and his wife rushing down the stairs.

“Sir, ma’am,” Morgan addressed, “everything’s okay.”

“You wake us up screaming and you think everything’s okay?”

“Look, I understand we startled you and I’m sorry for that.”

“You’re the FBI!”

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re right,” he stuttered. “You’re right. I’m, just, I’m really sorry.”

Morgan watched him for a moment, seeing his shoulders shudder up and down as he caught his breath. Then he turned back to the couple. “Sir, please, go back upstairs and try to get some rest. It was just a misunderstanding. Everything is fine, I promise you that.”

Mr. Bridges stormed off in a huff, but his wife stuck around for a moment, shuffling her feet on the steps. “Are you okay?”

“It was a dream,” he said, then gulped. “I’m really sorry.”

“Was it about Michael?”

Spencer didn’t know. He hadn’t seen any more than a small pair of black sneakers. But for her sake, he shook his head.

“I’ve been afraid to close my eyes,” she continued. “I’m scared I’ll see him die.”

He opened his mouth. The words ‘ _ Don’t worry _ ’ died in his throat. They weren’t true. He didn’t believe them. The chances of finding Michael were so slim. So he stood there with his mouth hanging open.

“Ma’am, I know it’s hard,” Morgan interrupted, softly. “But I need you to go upstairs and try to get some sleep…” Her eyes never left Spencer. “Please. I am sorry for the disturbance.”

Finally, she turned on her heel and left, turning off the hall light as she went.

“I’m making everything worse,” Spencer sighed.

“Reid… these cases get to all of us.”

“I’m losing it in their living room. And I’m dreaming- I’m dreaming about dead kids and being covered in leeches.”

“What the hell is scaring you?”

It took a few moments for Spencer to phrase his feelings into a coherent thought. “This boy’s going to die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

~ ~ ~

The next day was the funeral for the first boy who’d been kidnapped. With the amount of remorse the unsub showed with his body, they figured it was likely they’d be at the funeral to show respect to the child they’d killed.

Hotch wanted Michael’s parents there as well. It was possible they’d recognize the unsub or even just be able to tell if someone was watching them. And the unsub… The unsub would definitely by watching.

After getting changed into dark clothing, Spencer went upstairs to look around Michael’s room again.

“Hey kid,” Morgan called, appearing in the door not moments later. “We’re almost ready to go.”

“You know, they’re right. Odds are we’ll catch the unsub when he dumps the body or when he tries to snatch another kid.”

“I know the odds, Reid.”

It was so negative. Spencer wasn’t normally a pessimist, but the whole situation was bullshit. It was his job to save this kid. Why couldn’t he just… just  _ save  _ him? “It’s weird. Some things never go away.” He stepped away from his friend to pick up something off Michael’s desk to show him. “When I was a kid, every boy I knew had piles of dinosaur toys.”

He set down the green tyrannosaurus where he found it.

“Not you?” Morgan asked knowingly.

“I had books and notebooks. My mom filled hundreds of them with poems by W.S. Erwin and songs by Bob Dylan. She liked it when I memorized them. She was convinced that they were watching us and writing songs about our lives.”

_ Where are you going with this?  _ he asked himself.  _ What is bothering you so much that you’re sitting here tossing around a six-year-old’s dinosaurs? _

“Basements are the first part of a house to be built, right?” he blurted out. “So, if you’re having a recurring dream about a basement, kinda speaks to the core fundamentals of who you are as a person.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in dream analysis?”

“Freud’s been discredited, but Jung still has his merits… My dream? The dead boy? I’ve been having different versions of it since I was a little kid.”

“Hey.” Morgan made a few steps closer to him. “Have you talked to Lydia about this?”

“Why would I talk to Lydia about this?”

“Because you trust her,” Morgan insisted. “You love her a lot and I have the feeling she might be able to talk you through some of this. You know, no one would think less of you if you took a little time off to talk with her and get your head together.”

Spencer knit his eyebrows together.  _ How would that help? It was a stupid dream anyway, wasn’t it?  _ “I just want to find this boy,” he insisted, then stepped around Morgan and headed downstairs towards the car.

~ ~ ~

As Hotch handed the young Michael Bridges off to his family, Morgan was frustrated to see Spencer standing apart from the group, clearly lost in his own thoughts. This is what he wanted. They found Michael  _ alive _ .

He wondered if it was a mistake to show him the Riley Jenkins case. Riley Jenkins had died at six, when Spencer was four, and many of the case details lined up to Spencer’s dreams: he was found in his basement, behind a washing machine, and lived in Las Vegas, very close to where Spencer lived.

“You know, this is about as good a day as we’re gonna get on this job.”

“I know,” Spencer mumbled.

“And yet you’re still thinking about a boy you’re not even sure if you really knew.”

His grimace didn’t reassure Morgan in his statement. “When I was four, my mother had a sense that I was in danger.”

“Reid, your mother wasn’t well.”

“I know facts about the case,” he argued.

“Reid, you’ve got a photographic memory. Odds are, you saw the story-- he was just a kid like you-- and it caught your imagination.”

“I don’t really think that you believe that.”

_ Profilers. He should know better than to lie to Reid. _ “You want to know what I really believe?” he mended. “I believe you could have done anything in this world with your life, and you chose to do this job. Your man Carl Jung says our unconscious is the key to our life’s pursuits.”

It took Spencer a moment to confirm that what Morgan said was correct. “Yeah… Yeah.”

“So, for whatever reason, that case was stuck in your brain all these years, and it not only led you to this career choice but to the same city where your mother lives, and for us to have the opportunity to save this child.”

It finally seemed like he was breaking through. Spencer gave him the smallest smile. But Derek knew that he wasn’t going to really get through to him. That’s why he had a backup plan.

“Like I said, this is probably as good a day as we’re gonna get, man. Enjoy your moment.”

Hotch appeared from around Morgan’s shoulder to join their group and Spencer seemed to think of something. “Hey, Hotch? Do you think it would be possible to wait until tomorrow to return home?”

Hotch looked down as if contemplating, then turned to Morgan. “Do you think you could find something to do in Vegas for the night?”

Derek didn’t try to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. Hotch knew that no one on the team would argue about a night off in Vegas. Especially not him. So the two of them wandered off, but as they left, Derek could tell Spencer was still thinking about Riley Jenkins.

_ Alright, plan B then…  _

Hotch gave him a questioning look as he pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number, but Morgan didn’t care. The whole team could listen for all he cared, if it meant Spencer got out of this slump.

“ _ Hello? _ ”

“Lydia? When was the last time you spoke with Spencer?”

“ _ Uh… he sent me a goodnight text last night? But that’s been our only communication while he’s been in Vegas. Why? _ ”

“I think you should give him a call and ask about his nightmares.”

“ _ He hasn’t told me about any nightmares… _ ”

“I know. But he’s woken up shouting twice on this case so far. He told me about it, but I just can’t seem to help.”

“ _ How do you propose I bring it up to him? _ ”

“You can tell him I told you. He’s gonna know I interfered either way.”

“ _ Okay… Thanks, Derek. _ ”

“Good luck, kiddo.”


	28. Memoriam

“ _ I had another nightmare, _ ” was the first thing Spencer said when Lydia answered his call the next morning.

They’d had a discussion the night before about what was going on. As Spencer had put it, ‘it didn’t seem like that much of a deal until it affected his work’. Lydia was one to talk about not communicating, so she listened quietly and told him they could try to sort it out more when he got back. He told her he was staying with his mom for that night, which was honestly nice for her to hear. Lydia understood Spencer’s mixed feelings about visiting his mother, so she was glad he was going to get some time that was peaceful.

But now, he was calling her at 5 AM Vegas time, likely from his mom’s room in the hospital. Whatever was going on could not be put off until he got back. “What happened?”

“ _ Same basement, same washer, same shoes and pants, everything. But there was someone standing over the body this time. _ ”

“And did you recognize them?”

There was hesitance on the line. Fear felt like it was a string between their cellphones.

“ _ Yeah, I… Lydia, I think my dad killed Riley Jenkins. _ ”

_ Fuck. _ “Spencer, are you…” She cut herself off. Of course he wasn’t sure. But he wouldn’t have told her if he wasn’t fairly suspicious too. “What makes you think so?”

“ _ He was standing over Riley’s body! Something happened to make my mind show me this. My subconscious is trying to tell me something! _ ”

“Okay… That’s okay. How do we fix this?”

“ _ I need to stay in Las Vegas. I just… I have to figure this out. _ ”

“I’ll grab the next flight out,” Lydia replied, matter-of-factly.

“ _ Lydia, you have class- _ ”

“You haven’t spoken to your father in 17 years and you’re going to accuse him of sexually assaulting and stabbing a child? No, sir. Not alone you won’t. My classes will deal. They always do.”

“ _ What if I don’t figure this out? I can’t call you away for some pointless endeavor- _ ”

“Spencer, stop. I’m coming. This is just like any other case. We can’t guarantee we’ll solve it. But isn’t the potential of bringing a murderer to justice worth it?”

“ _ I… Are you sure? _ ”

“I’ll be there soon, love.”

“ _...thank you _ .”

~ ~ ~

Lydia rushed through the airport and hopped into a cab, heading straight for the hotel. She was crazy worried about Reid. There was no way to process the idea of someone you love being a murderer. She hoped it wasn’t true, but she didn’t know what would be easier for Spencer to accept. He tried to play it off, but Lydia knew he harbored an anger for the man. It could cloud his judgement.

She gave the hotel room door a solid knock, hoping Spencer would be back from the police department by now to let her in. He had warned her he was going to pick up as much information on the Riley Jenkins case that morning and meet her at his room.

“Hey,” he breathed, upon seeing her face on the other side of the door.

“Hey. Where do we start?” she began stepping inside with him and stopping short to see other people inside. “Rossi, Morgan. I thought you two would be on your way back to DC by now?”

“We didn’t want pretty boy to have to deal with this alone. But it looks like he was already on top of that.”

She gave Morgan a wide smile. “This isn’t exactly my forte. I’m mostly emotional support, so any help Spence can get would be great.”

“You aren’t just emotional support,” Spencer said, already opening the manilla folders he’d collected from the station. “I have a very important job for you.”

“Which is?”

“Interviewing the suspect, of course.”

~ ~ ~

“Riley was six at the time. His father, Lou Jenkins, was supposed to pick him up from T-Ball practice at four. But he got delayed at work, prompting Riley to walk three blocks home. When his mother got home in the early evening, she found him dead in the basement.”

“This sounds like the opening to a word problem,” Lydia muttered, just low enough that Spencer couldn’t hear it.

“So, the offender came to the house after the boy arrived home,” Rossi said.

“Or picked him up on the way there.”

“Coaxes Riley into the basement,” Morgan continued, “when he sexually assaults him.”

“The boy's mouth was taped shut,” Rossi added.

“Symbolic. The unsub fears Riley will talk, panics, weighs his options…”

“Decides to make certain he’ll never talk,” Morgan finished.

Spencer nodded.

Riley had been stabbed 9 times according to the file Lydia had in front of her. The knife belonged to the family’s fishing gear, which was conveniently in the basement.

“So,” Spencer began again, “the unsub’s a white male in his late 20s to early 30s.”

“Means we’re looking for a man in his 50s.”

Morgan confirmed their speculations. “He likely knew the boy. Maybe been to his house.”

“Neighbor,” Rossi suggested.

Lydia had been quiet this whole time. Profiling wasn’t something you picked up just by watching. The theory behind it was complex. But Spencer, at least… Spencer, she knew.

“Spence, what is it?”

His eyebrows were knit together with concentration, flipping between two pages in his hands. Rossi and Morgan looked up from their own files and noticed how stressed he looked.

“My family lived less than a half mile from the Jenkins’,” he admitted.

“You think your dad knew the boy?”

Spencer glanced at Rossi, then began rubbing his temples in thought. “I don’t know. My memory’s lack of recall just reinforces how little I knew about him.”

“Reid, I don’t need to tell you that this signature was need-based and sexual in nature. The man we’re looking for is a pedophile.” With those words, the older man leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “So, I’ll ask you again. Are you sure you want to go down this road?”

Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes. Learning your father was a pedophile might unlock some memories that Spencer’s subconscious was trying desperately to hide from him. Most people wouldn’t want to remember that.

But Spencer was Spencer. Lydia couldn’t be one to fault him for that. She’d be desperate to know the same. But then again, she was well aware that she wasn’t the gold standard for self care. So his determination, while not shocking, was disappointing.

…also a part of her was just praying that she wouldn’t have to come head to head with Spencer’s dad.

~ ~ ~

“What did you get, Morgan?” Rossi asked as he picked up the phone. He and Lydia were on their way back from the police station after thoroughly questioning the lead detective on the case. Sadly, they didn’t get much. He was basically recounting what they’d read in the case file.

Morgan, on the other hand, had gone with Spencer to visit his mom and Riley Jenkins’s father. “ _ William Reid works at a law firm in Summerlin. Meet us there _ .”

“We’re ready to confront him?” Lydia said from the driver’s seat.

“ _ Riley was on the Little League team that William coached. So far, he fits the profile. _ ”

“What did Mr. Jenkins say?”

“ _ He doesn’t think it was him. _ ”

“Thanks, Morgan,” Rossi finished.

As they pulled up to their next red light, Lydia dropped her head onto the steering wheel.

“You seem excited… Green light.”

She sent Rossi a glare and kept driving. “I know how this looks for him. He’s far too emotionally invested. But Spence is brilliant. I don’t doubt that  _ something  _ happened. But then again, if he’s wrong, his father’s first impression of me will be me accusing him of being a pedophile.”

“Do you honestly care what William Reid thinks of you?”

She considered it for a moment. “No… I don’t think so. But what’s ‘too far’ in a situation like this?”

“I think the best you can do for Reid today is be on his side and keep him grounded. He might find out a lot about himself that he doesn’t want to know.”

Lydia nodded, pulling onto the 95. “I’ll always be on his side.”

~ ~ ~

“Can I help you?” the receptionist on Mr. Reid’s floor asked as the four of them entered the office.

“Yeah…” Spencer began, but immediately the rest of his response died in his throat.

It scared Lydia to watch him. His tongue darted around his bottom lip and his eyes dropped to the carpet, trying to find the words. There was no way he was ready to have a civil conversation with his father. Lydia reached down and grabbed his hand to reassure him, but it didn’t look like he felt it, his mouth still open to express his silence.

Rossi took over for him. “We’d like to speak with William Reid.”

“Is he expecting you?” The woman took a moment to tear her eyes from Spence’s unsure face.

Rossi flashed his badge at her. “I don’t think so.”

“He’s in a meeting right now. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll tell him you’re here.”

Rossi nodded and she walked off, leaving the four of them in a line in front of the main desk.

“You okay?” Morgan asked quietly.

Spencer looked at him with wide eyes and Lydia could hear his uneven breaths. “Yeah… No-- Yeah-- I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

His hand fell out of hers as he scurried down one of the hallways and out of sight.

“Well, shit,” Lydia mumbled.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Morgan admitted.

Rossi shrugged. “Seventeen years is a long time to go between visits.”

“Not long enough. The kid’s still angry.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that.”

“Are you going to be able to run point on this?” Morgan turned on Lydia.

“One of us has got to be level-headed,” she said, not turning away from where Spencer disappeared. “I think I can manage it for a day.”

“You from the FBI?” a new voice said, catching all of their attention.

William Reid was a gangly man, like his son, with a pointed nose. Lydia opened her mouth first, wanting to assert control as soon as possible. “Yes, sir. Mr. Reid, I’m Lydia Ambers and these are agents Rossi and Morgan.”

Rossi showed off his badge again, being the only person to have it on hand.

“This wouldn’t be about the city council investigation, would it?” he joked.

“No, this is a personal matter, sir,” she replied, not letting herself hesitate for a minute. “It concerns your son.”

“My son?” His face faltered. “Did something happen?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Spencer sounded winded as he rounded the corner and joined them once again. Lydia stared him down, trying to silently ask if he was okay, but his eyes never left his father. “Hello, dad.”

~ ~ ~

William pulled them into his office to have a private discussion. Lydia immediately took the seat opposite him. As she suspected, Spencer didn’t want to sit, so Rossi sat beside her and Morgan hovered behind them.

“You don’t look like me anymore,” William started, looking at his son to his left. “You used to. Everybody said so.”

“They say some people look like their dogs, too. It’s attributed to prolonged mutual exposure. Elderly couples, also. They unconsciously mimic the expressions of people they’ve been around their whole life. So it kind of-- kind of makes sense that I wouldn’t really look like you. I haven’t seen you in twenty years.”

That shut him up. Clearly he felt guilty for ignoring his son for the majority of his life.

...but not guilty enough to fix it.

“Mr. Reid, we’re currently investigating a case we believe you were involved in many years ago. Do you remember a kid by the name of Riley Jenkins?”

The man looked between his son and Lydia. “Of course.”

“I’ve been having dreams about him for a really long time,” Spencer explained. “But recently, the dream changed. I saw his killer and he was you.”

William raised an eyebrow, then calmly said, “Interesting dream.”

“You don’t seem all that surprised,” Morgan noted.

“I stopped being surprised by Spencer’s mind a long time ago.” He tried once more to keep the air light, but Lydia could see the nervousness in his features. At least, he knew where this was going.

“Mr. Reid, you are now on the suspect list for the death of Riley Jenkins.”

“I’m sorry?” he demanded.

“After Spencer looked into his dream, he got the perspective of some uninvolved parties, who agree that you fit parts of the suspect’s profile. It is, as you know, our job to investigate all reasonable theories.”

“You’re not actually saying you think I killed Riley Jenkins?”

“We didn’t say that,” Spencer responded.

“Good, ‘cause that’s absurd.”

“We’d just like permission to look through your computer,” Morgan continued. “Access your records.”

“And what would you be looking for exactly?” Lydia waited for one of her coworkers to answer, but none of them did. “You want access to my files?” His eyes locked onto Spencer’s. “Get a warrant.”

~ ~ ~

“We can’t get a warrant,” Spencer told Garcia as he and Lydia walked back to his hotel room. “We have to go under the radar on this one.”

“ _ You want me to hack your father’s network? _ ” Lydia could hear Garcia say over the line. “ _ You sure about this? _ ”

“I really would wish people would stop asking me that.”

He shut his phone quickly and Lydia was about to say something about the others being concerned for him when he opened the door and they both saw a small, flat package in the doorway.

“‘You’re looking at the wrong guy,’” Spencer read off the front of the folder.

Inside was a file on a man named Gary Brendan Michaels.

“I’ll tell Morgan and Rossi to meet us in the lobby again,” Lydia told him.

~ ~ ~

“Was the envelope dropped off at the front desk first?” Rossi asked as he and Morgan surveyed the mugshots in front of them.

“Nope, it went straight to my room.”

“So they knew what room you were in.”

“I do have to admit, the timing of this is a little suspicious,” Derek stated.

“Yeah. An hour after I see my father, we’re handed another suspect?”

“You think you knew this guy?”

Spencer had told her that he could have sworn this man had played chess with him as a child, but he seemed hesitant to admit it to Rossi. “I don’t know. I-I think so, but I’m not sure. I- No- I don’t know.”

“Exposed himself to a minor. That’s a precursor to molestation.”

“And murder,” Morgan agreed. “We should take a closer look at this guy.”

Seconds later, Derek’s phone went off and he reached down and put it on speaker.

“Yeah, talk to me, baby girl.”

“ _ I’m not interrupting boy time at Crazy Horse Too, am I? _ ”

“I’m right here, Garcia,” Lydia announced.

“ _ Sweetheart! No one told me you were headed to Vegas. _ ”

“Well, it wasn’t for the strip clubs, I can tell you that.”

Lydia could hear the smile in Garcia’s voice as she moved on. “ _ Reid, we’ve been all up in your father’s business. _ ”

“What did you find?” he asked, softly. Lydia would have reached out to hold his hand again, but he instinctively crossed his arms.

“ _ Well, let me tell you first what I did not find. No kiddie porn, no memberships to illicit websites, no dubious emails, no chat room history. _ ”

“What about his finances?”

The voice that answered belonged to Hotch. “ _ We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we can find. _ ”

“ _ Well, _ ” Prentiss interrupted, “ _ he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago, but I think we could overlook that. _ ”

“How many people can you fit into your batcave, Garcia?” Lydia joked.

“ _ Just the two, Sugar. _ ”

“He’s smart,” Spencer said, pulling them back on track. “Is it possible he kept things under the table?”

“ _ Well, of course, _ ” Hotch argued. “ _ But from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile. _ ”

“ _ We can tell you other things about him, if you wanna know _ .”

Spencer nodded, before realizing Emily couldn’t see him. “I’m listening,” he swallowed.

“ _ He’s a workaholic, he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money, but he doesn’t spend a lot of it. He has a modest house. He drives a hybrid. He doesn’t travel much. He stays away from the casinos. Um, and according to his veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat. _ ”

Hotch picked up from there. “ _ He appears to spend most of his free time alone, he goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. And from his collection of first editions, it seems his favorite author is- _ ”

“Isaac Asimov,” Spencer answered for him. “I remember that one.”

“ _ He does have one other major interest, _ ” Garcia continued. “ _ On his home computer, he’s archived, like, a kajillion things on one common subject. _ ”

“What?”

“ _ You, kiddo. He’s got, like, everything that’s been published online. Every article you’ve been quoted in, pieces you’ve written for behavioral science journals, he even has a copy of your dissertation. _ ”

“He’s keeping tabs on you,” Rossi noted. “That’s saying something.”

“Yeah, that he googled me,” Spencer snapped. “That makes up for everything. I’m gonna get some air.”

Both men looked at Lydia as her boyfriend stormed off into the casino.

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s give him a minute to cool down, shall we?”

“ _ I thought we were giving him good news, _ ” Garcia sighed, disappointed.

“ _ What else can we do? _ ” Hotch asked.

“Look up a name for us, if you would,” Morgan said into his phone. “Gary Brendan Michaels.”

“ _ You like this Gary guy for the Riley murder? _ ”

“Somebody does.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia was lucky that Spencer didn’t exactly blend in with the casino scenery. She made a beeline for the poker games and got a glimpse of his back at a 5-card draw machine. When she got over there, a woman with a martini glass was leaning over his shoulder, talking to him.

Lydia wasn’t the jealous type, seeing as this was Spencer she was dating, so she found it funny that he’d attracted a prostitute in the 5 minutes she’d been gone.

“...if you employ optimal strategy and always draw for the royal flush, you can push those odds to 2%.”

“Hm,” she nodded, intrigued. “Smart and handsome.”

Lydia saw his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, probably just now realizing who he was talking to, so she decided to step in on his behalf. “Sorry, honey. He’s a bit too clueless to be a good target.”

“Lydia!” Spencer exclaimed. The woman looked between them and gracefully walked off to find someone else. “I wasn’t-”

She laughed. “I got you, Spence. We’ve got more important things to worry about. How are you feeling?”

“Something’s wrong,” he argued. “I can’t just ignore the signs my brain is sending me.”

“We’re not ignoring them. But there are so many ways to interpret a dream. Don’t you think our first job should be finding out what happened to Riley? Your dad doesn’t fit the profile of a pedophile, but he could still be involved. I promise you, Spencer, you’re not going crazy. Just keep trusting your gut and we’ll get somewhere.”

A small smile pulled at his lips as he considered this. “I don’t tell you I love you enough.”

“Don’t worry-” She leaned down and gave him a peck on the lips. “-I know.”

“You two are annoyingly perfect for each other,” Derek said, appearing with Rossi. “So, what’s our next move?”

“Getting out of this casino, for one,” Lydia grumbled. “The overpowering smell of smoke is making my head hurt.”

Rossi nodded. “Reminder of all the people victim to cigarettes.”

“You know,” Spencer began, following the rest of the group back to the lobby, “recently, there’s been a lot of success in…”

Lydia raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what had just grabbed Spencer’s attention. She knew he wouldn’t have stopped his tangent willingly. “What?”

“Hypnosis.”

~ ~ ~

“What did the detective say?” Lydia asked as Spencer hopped back into the car.

“We get 24 hours to question him.”

“And Morgan?” she continued, noticing he had not followed Spence out of the police station.

“He’s talking to Garcia about Gary Michaels.”

Lydia took a breath. “You… didn’t want to learn more about Michaels before taking in your dad?”

“You don’t think I can be objective either,” he huffed.

“You were never going to be able to be objective on this,” she argued. “That’s what we’re here for. To help you keep an open mind.”

“I saw him burning bloody clothes!” Spencer finally shouted.

He’d repeated those same words multiple times after his visit to the hypnotherapist. The woman had warned him that his memory could be distorted by the case, but Spencer was certain this had happened.

“Okay.” Lydia’s voice was much softer now, though she wasn’t sure if it was an attempt to comfort him or if she was genuinely startled by his reaction. “Then I want you to listen to one more thing before we take your father into custody. Watching your father go to prison, even if you are pissed at him, isn’t as cathartic as you think.”

“If he did something, he deserves to be brought to justice,” Spencer snapped, though he was much tamer now.

Lydia was glad to see Morgan climbing into the backseat, seeing as she couldn’t find much to respond to that. “Gary Michaels disappeared soon after the Riley murder. Luckily, we’ve got some DNA that Garcia’s running through ViCAP to see if he’s offended under a different name.”

“Good,” Lydia replied.

Spencer shot her a glare. “Let’s go.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia dressed up slightly to interrogate William Reid. As Morgan had told her, they wanted him on his toes, so she needed to look like a strong authority figure.

...which she wasn’t.

“Mr. Reid, good to see you again.”

“Where’s my son?” he demanded.

“ _ Dr _ . Reid is busy at the moment. We consider accusing a family member of murder as a conflict of interest.”

“This isn’t an FBI case and the normal rules don’t apply,” he argued. “I want to speak to my son.”

“Mr. Reid, your son has come forward as witness to you burning bloody clothing soon after the Riley murder. Do you deny this event happening?”

“I want council.”

Lydia could feel the word ‘fuck’ burning behind her eyelids. Lawyers getting involved was… difficult to say the least.

Luckily, she didn’t have to deal with that. As she opened her mouth, the door clicked open behind her.

“It’s a simple question,” Spencer said. “How did the blood get on the clothes?”

“I told you, I’m not going to talk without council.”

“If you don’t have anything to hide, you don’t need a lawyer.” Lydia could feel Spencer leaning threateningly above her.

“Spencer, please. I’m not stupid… I’m proud of you, you know that?”

“I’m not stupid either.”

Seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, Lydia left him to his questioning and joined Rossi and Morgan behind the glass.

“Good try,” Derek told her. “This is too personal for them, there was no way they weren’t going to confront each other.”

“I just want to help him, Derek.”

“I know, kiddo.”

“ _ Like you said, I do have special talents, _ ” Spencer was saying across the glass. “ _ And one of them is being able to tell when somebody’s hiding something _ .”

“ _ You’re angry that I left. And you have a right to be _ .”

“ _ You want to make it up to me? Tell me the truth. _ ”

Lydia knew from his face and his silence that William was considering it. “ _ I didn’t kill that boy… But I know who did. _ ”

“ _ Gary Michaels? _ ”

His demeanor dropped immediately. “ _ How’d you know that? _ ”

“William Reid knows about Michaels?” Lydia murmured.

“So does Detective Hyde,” Rossi informed her. “We’re pretty sure he’s the one who put that file underneath Reid’s door.”

“Great.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “We love a reliable justice system.”

~ ~ ~

“How’s Spencer?”

“ _ We’re on our way back from California, _ ” was all Morgan said. It was possible that Spencer was with him, but Lydia figured Derek just didn’t want to answer the question. “ _ There was a fingerprint on Gary Michaels glasses that didn’t belong to him. _ ”

Hotch had called to let them know that Gary Michaels’s DNA had been identified on a body found 7 years ago just across the state line. He’d been beaten to death with a blunt object. So the boys went to speak to the California detectives. And now Spencer was convinced that his father had murdered Michaels instead of Riley.

“Let me know what they find.”

“ _ We’ll likely be back at the Fountain View before then. _ ”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby, then.”

“ _ Oh! And I just got word that JJ has gone into labor. _ ”

Lydia blinked at the news, trying to do some quick math in her head. “Really? She wasn’t due for like… two to three weeks, wasn’t she?”

“ _ Yeah, she was surprised, too. But the whole team is at the hospital. _ ”

“Let’s wrap this up soon then, shall we?”

“ _ Sure thing, kiddo. _ ”

~ ~ ~

Spencer’s leg bounced at an unbelievably fast rate. Lydia could tell he hadn’t even noticed it.

When Derek’s phone began ringing, he looked at the name, then to Spencer. Last chance to go back. To not know if his father was a murderer.

Spencer chose the truth.

“Yeah, this is Agent Morgan… You did?... You’re 100% certain?... Ok. Thank you.” Spencer stood up, his fingers slipping from Lydia’s grasp, his eyes begging for answers. “We’re going to have to get an arrest warrant.”

Lydia’s heart leapt to her throat. It was a painful feeling. She hoped that Spencer felt vindicated, for his own sake, but there was no way this wouldn’t haunt him for years to come.

“It was a match?”

“Yeah,” Morgan breathed. “But it wasn’t your dad.”

~ ~ ~

Lou Jenkins looked up at her curiously as Lydia entered the interrogation room. Spencer followed him in, but didn’t say anything for a while.

“Mr. Jenkins, I am sorry for your son's death. Such traumatic news cannot be easy to recover from.”

“You didn’t bring me here to talk about my son.”

“I imagine the two situations are related.”

He glared at her. “Get on with it.”

“Did you kill Gary Michaels?” she asked, softly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He raped and murdered my son.”

“What proof did you have of that claim, Mr. Jenkins?”

“He admitted it to me.”

“When? Did he approach you-?”

“No. No, he admitted it after accusation.”

Lydia swallowed. “Mr. Jenkins,” she hesitated, “you were threatening to kill him. It is possible that he admitted to something he didn’t do out of fear. What made you approach him in the first place?”

“He approached another kid in the neighborhood.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was told by a concerned party.”

“Who? Another parent?”

Lou crossed his arms. “That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

Lydia tried to consider his motivations. He was clearly not telling them something. But what was the harm in naming the person who came forward unless they were a party to the murder?

“Who was it?” Spencer demanded before she could speak her own mind.

“I told you, that’s all I’m going to say on the-”

“ _ Who was it? _ ” he tried again, more forcefully.

Lydia looked up at her boyfriend, trying to calm him, but his attention was driven away from the both of them as Detective Hyde walked in. “Agent Reid?”

He spun around, pointing at the man threateningly. “Do not interfere with this interrogation, detective! This is not your case anymore.”

Lydia unconsciously reached forward and put her hand up against Spencer’s back, watching him lose his patience. He was angry. No one would give him what he needed so desperately to know. Until his mother stepped around the detective.

“Spencer, it was me,” she told him nervously.

Lydia leaned forward to see Will Reid standing beside her as well. She’d never seen Spencer’s parents together, and understandably, he was a bit surprised to see it as well. His eyes flitted from them, to the detective, to Lou, to her.

He was overwhelmed. His eyes read to her like a book of the truth that had been haunting him for years. His desperation had been growing. But if only it had been his father, he could have been relieved by the news. He didn’t want to consider his mom a murderer.

Silently, he reached around to grab the palm she had placed on his back, gave it a quick squeeze between both of his hands, and followed his parents out of the room.

~ ~ ~

By the time Lydia had gotten a signed confession from Lou, Spencer had come back. He explained to her his mother’s story. How she’d gone to Lou after she saw the way Gary Michaels was looking at him. How, after identifying Michaels, Lou followed him home and killed him. And how his mother had walked onto the scene and, horrified, slipped in Michaels’s blood.

Lou and William had agreed to keep Diana out of it, if Lou ever got caught. They didn’t want her implicated for something she had no capacity to prevent. And upon learning what had happened, William immediately set to burning Diana’s soiled clothing, a scene that poor Spencer had happened upon, which caused unrest in his mind for many years following.

“I’m so sorry if this is not how you planned this trip to go-”

“Spencer!” she laughed. “We solved the case! That’s all that  _ needed  _ to happen. The family drama I could have done without, yeah? Are you satisfied with your truth?”

He thought about it only momentarily. “Very. It had been weighing on me for quite some time.”

“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to try and get into your dad’s good graces, because we could use a rich family member between us.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but still couldn’t hide his smile as she skipped away towards where his parents were still speaking. 

Morgan, seeing this as the perfect opportunity to throw Spencer a huge ‘I-told-you-so’, approached him, but couldn’t formulate the words before Spencer said something so out of character and… frankly, just exciting, that Derek was stunned into silence.

“I’m going to marry that girl.”


	29. Amplification (S4E24)

“ _ I’m picking you up from work. Now. _ ”

Lydia sighed, glad that it was her break and she wasn’t in the middle of teaching class. But then again… Spencer already knew that. “Just once I’d like to get a case and be told ‘you can drop by when you’re done with what you’re working on.’ No worries. Sending out emails now.”

“ _ Sorry. It’s local, if that helps. _ ”

Lydia’s eyebrows knit together suspiciously. “Local? Local cases are never my cases. If it were, I probably would have heard something, right?”

“ _ I don’t know anything about the case _ ,” he admitted. “ _ Hotch called and he said he needed everyone now, you included. _ ”

Lydia shut her laptop, already stuffing it into her work bag. “I’ll meet you out front.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia had stuffed herself into the back of the elevator with Spence, Morgan, and Prentiss, so when the doors opened, she didn’t immediately see what made the three of them stop.

“What’s the army doing here?” Morgan said.

Lydia stepped to the side to get a better look at the crowd of people rushing through the BAU office.

“What the hell is going on?” Emily muttered.

Spencer was the first to set off for the conference room, Lydia joining him immediately if only to get away from the insane amount of people in the bullpen.

Inside were Hotch, Rossi, JJ, and a woman.

“Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens with the CDC.”

“Hello,” Emily said.

“Hello. I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Reid inquired, but Hotch stopped him.

“We need to get started.”

JJ cleared her throat, ready to take over the briefing. Lydia could tell it was going to be a quick summary, with no slides, few files to share, and no time to sit down.

“Last night, 25 people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2pm yesterday. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. It’s now just past 7am the next day, we have 12 dead.”

Looking over her boyfriend’s shoulder, Lydia could see large welts across the victims faces and necks. Purple rings lined the deads’ eyes.

“Lung failure and black lesions,” Morgan read aloud. “Anthrax?”

Spencer shook his head. “Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast.”

“This strain does,” Dr. Kimura admitted.

Lydia’s eyes shot to their expert. She could see why Hotch felt the need to bring her in, but a new strain of anthrax was far out of her comfort zone, especially in a time when people were dying quickly. This would take a team of people in a lab running trial after trial to find a cure. These poor people were doomed.

Lydia wouldn’t know anything about the strain, she could only come up with a vague idea about what sort of background a person would need to create this, and there were so many people already involved in whatever this was.

“What are we doing about potential mass targets?” Prentiss inquired. “Airports, malls, trains?”

“There’s a media blackout,” Hotch replied.

“We’re not telling the public?”

“We’d have a mass exodus,” Morgan explained.

“Psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack.”

“Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did it might go underground or destroy their samples.”

“Or,” Emily tried to argue, “if they wanted attention and didn’t get it, they might attack again. Doesn’t the public have a right to know that?”

“If there is another attack, there’s no way we’ll be able to keep it quiet,” Hotch assured her. “Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can.”

“What do we know about this strain?” Lydia interrupted, grabbing the files from Spencer to get a closer look.

Dr. Kimura answered, “the spores are weaponized, reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. Odorless and invisible.”

“A sophisticated strain,” Rossi reasoned. “Only a scientist would know how to do that.”

Lydia nodded.

“These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours.”

“It’s not the lesions I’m worried about,” Dr. Kimura warned. “It’s the lungs. We don’t know how to combat the toxins once they’re inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all.”

“Reid, Ambers, go to the hospital with Dr. Kimura. Reid will interview victims. Ambers, I want you in the lab updating us on blood tests and toxicology reports.”

They nodded, Spencer throwing his satchel over his shoulder.

“Morgan and Prentiss, there’s a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. There’s cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

Dr. Kimura grabbed a tray of pills from a desk along the side of the room. “We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something.”

Lydia picked up a plastic cup with two pills inside and glanced around. Everyone hesitated, knowing that for the rest of this case, they’d be risking a lot. This wasn’t chasing down bad guys with guns, but rather with immunity. Their kevlar vests wouldn’t protect them from the air.

“ _ Jin dan _ ,” Rossi said, raising his cup. “May you live 100 years.”

~ ~ ~

Spencer was fidgeting in the passenger seat of the car as they drove to Walter Reed hospital with Dr. Kimura. “What did you tell your students, Lydia?”

She shrugged. “What I normally do. Just that I was called into work by the FBI. They don’t normally ask where I’m headed or why. It’s strange. For the first time since I became a professor, I’m worried about  _ them _ .”

“I guess you’re right,” he mumbled. “This is going to affect everyone in the DC area.”

“I mean, what would a cure for this even look like? The only person who has any idea how it differs from normal anthrax is our unsub. He’s got to have some kind of antidote, right?”

“Let’s hope he does,” Spencer replied. “For now, building the profile is Hotch and Rossi’s doing. Our job is to find out what we can about the victims and their symptoms.”

~ ~ ~

“How many more have died since this morning?”

“ _ Five _ ,” Spencer admitted. “ _ We’re up to 17 dead. _ ”

“It’s no good,” she sighed, having stepped out of the lab momentarily to call him. “The drug combinations are useless. We don’t know anymore about this strain than they did this morning.”

“ _ Dr. Kimura says the strain duplicates every 30-45 minutes, poisoning the lungs and causing organ failure. _ ”

“Extreme bacterial amplification,” she replied. “That’s insane.”

“ _ I’m thinking whoever created this had to have gone through the trouble of testing it. _ ”

“That would make sense, but who’s to say the park  _ wasn’t _ his test run?”

“ _ It’s too risky. Human tests are done on a much smaller scale. What do you know about illnesses that have similar symptoms to anthrax poisoning? _ ”

“Not much,” she admitted. “I’ll talk to Garcia and do some digging about weird medical deaths in the area.”

“ _ Thanks _ .”

~ ~ ~

“Tell me you got something good, Spice.”

“ _ I rarely find myself giving out good news, Sugar, _ ” Garcia admitted. “ _ However, I did find some strange deaths for you. Two days ago, three people in the Baltimore area checked into 3 different ERs, slipping into comas and dying within 3 hours. The COD on all three was meningitis, but they were never tested for anthrax. Is that what you were looking for? _ ”

“Possibly. The respiratory problems would be similar, but the lesions would have definitely signalled to the doctors it was something else. You said they died within 3 hours?”

“ _ Yes, ma’am. _ ”

“That’s fast. They likely had to have inhaled a high concentration of anthrax if that were the case. But, it would also make it harder to identify. See if those three were in the same place that day and contact Hotch.”

“ _ On it. _ ”

~ ~ ~

“ _ Lydia? _ ”

She huffed. “What’s up, Derek?”

“ _ Don’t get pissy on me, _ ” he teased.

“All I’ve done all day is answer calls and get told once an hour that someone else has died. My mood has limits.”

“ _ I’m pulling you from the hospital. We’re going to the house of a Dr. Lawrence Nichols. Fits our profile. _ ”

“Great.” As she spoke she slipped out of the hospital lab and towards the elevator. “What’s this profile?”

“ _ Fanatical, _ ” he summarized. “ _ Dr. Nichols got booted from Fort Detrick after the Amerithrax case. He was afraid of anthrax being weaponized against the US and was preaching stronger protection from the government. _ ”

“If he was against anthrax, what makes you think he’d use it?”

“ _ A warning. He was told that we couldn’t spend billions of dollars to fight against an attack that may never happen. This is his way of saying, ‘You should have listened to me. Now it’s too late.’ _ ”

“Got it. I’ll meet you outside Walter Reed.”

“ _ Good. _ ”

Hanging up, she sent a quick message to Spencer to let him know she was leaving the hospital, then made a break for the front entrance.

~ ~ ~

“It’s quaint,” Lydia said, stepping out of the SUV and waiting for Morgan to walk around the car and join her.

The Nichols house had cute rose bushes around the front and all the windows had white trim. Classic suburban look.

“Nicer than a hospital, I bet.”

She huffed. “I cannot thank you enough for getting me out of there. I don’t know how Reid is able to talk to these people, knowing that they’re doomed.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Morgan countered. “To make sure they aren’t doomed.”

A team in protective gear had arrived before them to search the house. There was no one there, luckily enough, as Nichols was supposedly at work. And the team had yet to notify them of any contamination, but until they were certain, she and Morgan had to stay outside.

The two of them wandered towards the backyard, looking at all the greenery and sweeping for anything suspicious, but frankly, if Nichols was harboring anthrax, he would have kept it at his lab. As soon as the team inside was done, all she and Morgan had to do was the usual profiling stuff. Does this man have a motive to commit mass murder and all that jazz.

Lydia was so caught up in the difference between the well trimmed front lawn to the overgrown backyard that she didn’t hear Morgan’s cell start ringing, nor did she take notice of the fact that he stopped walking to answer it.

There was a small stone fountain, which was completely dry, in front of a decaying garage in the back. The shed was designed exactly like the house, but its paint was faded and chipping and the plants clung to it like it had been long abandoned in the weeds.

It didn’t look like anyone had been in there for years, and yet all the doors and windows were open.

As she crept towards the sliding glass door along the side, her hand went to the gun at her belt. He should be at work, but frankly, unsubs were never where you expected them to be. So, to be careful, she unclipped her weapon and kept a hand on it as she leaned inside.

“Hello? Dr. Nichols? It’s the FBI!”

_ Nothing… _

Hesitantly, she stepped inside and didn’t take a moment to realize how bad of an idea that was. Directly across from the door was clearly a work desk, and yet, she didn’t take into consideration that he might have worked on his toxins  _ at his house. _

And so, as she stepped around the corner to find Dr. Nichols’s body with a shattered tube of white powder on the floor, it took her a moment to process what this meant.

_ Powder… anthrax… deadly. _ The AC was on, meaning the toxin was circulating the air and she had most certainly been exposed.

_ Deadly. _

Her hand shot up to her mouth, quickly covering it with the fabric of her shirt to filter out some of the powder from the air. Funny enough, the dead body was the furthest thing from her mind. Her next plan of action was to cover the broken pieces of glass so that whatever powder was left on the floor wouldn’t be swept up into the air. She could worry about the AC in a second.

“Ambers?”

_ Fuck, Morgan. _

She couldn’t let him inside. It was too dangerous. But if she left, the BAU might never get the chance to search the lab before the rest of the infected died. It would take too long to clear the garage. No, she had to stay, even if it meant increasing the concentration in her lungs.

Flipping around, she shut the sliding door, locking it just as Morgan appeared.

“Ambers!”

“Get back!” she insisted, looking around wildly for the closest open window to shut, one hand still holding her shirt over her face. “Get out of here!”

“What are you doing?! What’s wrong?”

He rushed over to the window with her, but wasn’t fast enough. “Don’t! STAY AWAY, MORGAN!”

“Tell me what’s going on!”

“ _ I’VE BEEN EXPOSED! _ ”

His face and Lydia’s heart both dropped at the same time. 

_ What had she done? _

“Morgan,” she started, trying to keep her mind off of her death sentence, “I need you to tell the team that Nichols is dead.”

“He’s  _ what?! _ ”

“He’s been murdered,” she explained, stepping away from the window so that he could see the body behind her. “Blunt force trauma to the head. I have to stop the anthrax circulation in the room and then I can start to profile what happened.”

“What? No! Lydia, you have to get out of there so we can take you to the hospital!”

“Derek, Dr. Kimura said the only thing they can do at the hospital is give me morphine! If we wait for a team to clear the room before we profile, those people at the hospital will die.  _ I  _ might die. If I stay here, maybe I can find a cure.”

“I don’t like this, Lydia,” he grumbled. “Think about Spencer-”

“I  _ am! _ We’ve seen what this toxin does to people. I have a few hours before I become incapable of doing my job. My chances of surviving increase tremendously if I spend those hours doing work. Trust me. I can do nothing from the hospital.”

He nervously gave her a once over, as if he’d be able to see how bad it was, before pulling out his cell and stepping away from the garage.

~ ~ ~

By the time Hotch got there, Lydia had turned off the AC unit, found a lab mask to cover her face, and given Morgan a rundown on the state of Nichols’s body. There was no way he was responsible for the attack at the part, because he had been dead for at least 2 days. The fact that he had anthrax here likely meant someone had murdered him to take his samples.

“ _ Ambers _ ,” Hotch answered his phone from across the backyard, looking at her through the window.

“Does Spencer know yet?” she demanded.

“ _ Yes. He’s on his way now. _ ”

“How did he take it?”

“ _ How do you expect, Lydia? _ ” Morgan hissed, clearly listening in on the conversation.

“I didn’t mean to do this,” she argued, glancing around the room. “But I’m going to stay and look for a cure, or at the very least, some more information on this strain and I’ll try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols.”

Hotch took over once more. “ _ Okay, we’re going to get a suit and mask in to you right away. _ ”

“Don’t bother. I’m already infected. I’ve stopped the airflow for now, so my condition won’t get worse. I need to spend my time working the case.”

“ _ Alright. What do you see? _ ”

“He has cages stacked against the back wall, filled with dead animals,” she began, getting into work mode. “He struggled before he died. Um… there’s some oddly empty spots on shelves, which leads me to believe the murderer robbed him as well. Nothing personal in here, clearly it was only meant to be a workshop or lab of sorts. There are two desks. One is a mess but the other totally organized…”

“ _ Two different work spaces? _ ” It was Derek’s voice again.

“Yeah, um…” She started to flip through a journal on one of the desks and paused. “I think our unsub was working here with Nichols. These look like research notes. Stuff that Nichols would already know, considering he has a doctorate.” She ran back to the cluttered desk to look over some loose papers. “Yep. Two clearly different sets of handwriting. Maybe he took on a protege?”

“ _ Ambers, Morgan is going to stay with you and help profile Nichols. I’m going to go back to the BAU and try to figure out who this protege might be. _ ”

“Don’t worry about me, Hotch,” she said, hearing the edge in his voice. He didn’t want to leave her here. “I feel fine. I’m good at this stuff. If there’s a cure, I’ll find it.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia prepared herself for the worst as Spencer grew closer. Reckless together. That was her promise. Getting herself into this situation was exactly what he was talking about after the Colorado case. But she really hadn’t meant to end up here. She felt like there was no better way after being exposed. She was being as careful as she could. But their last fight hadn’t been good.

She was listing excuses in her mind. Building up a strong argument for when he got here and inevitably lost his shit on her. 

It was almost ironic that their last fight had been about her putting up walls between them and now, she was quite literally locking him out. But as she had promised to be careful, he had promised not to rush in to save her. And that included walking into a building of toxic air.

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket and she took several deep breaths before looking at the caller ID.

Spencer was here.

“Hey, love,” she said softly, not wanting to look outside and see him there. With Morgan. Probably pissed as hell.

But he matched her tone perfectly: gentle and concerned. “ _ Lydia, how are you feeling? _ ”

Her breath caught on all the things she was planning to say when he yelled at her. She wasn’t sure where to go with that response. “The… um… The fever’s kicking in. I’m unnaturally warm. But I’ve been super careful to lower my exposure, I promise! I didn’t mean to-”

“ _ I know, honey. I know. Stay calm. Keep working. You’re gonna be alright. _ ”

God, she never really knew with him, did she? Of course he wasn’t happy she was there, but he kept his promise. He was trusting her. And for the first time today, she didn’t feel like she had to convince everyone that everything was normal. They both knew her odds were unfortunately low at the moment and they weren’t going to spend this time arguing.

“ _ Dr. Kimura came with me. She’s suiting up to come in with the decon team. _ ”

“Good.”

There was a long pause, before he said, “ _ Lydia, come to the window. _ ”

She originally had thought she was avoiding his gaze because she had expected him to be angry, but stepping up to the glass and seeing him at the edge of the lawn, as close as the CDC would allow him to get, brought a new meaning to the word guilt.

She didn’t just break her promise of being with him when the bad things happened. There was a chance that in a few hours, a few painful, painful hours, she might leave him. She might die. And Spencer… he didn’t deserve that.

“ _ Lydia, _ ” he began, looking her over carefully. “ _ I love you so, so much, you hear me? _ ”

She nodded, feeling tears begin to well up in the back of her throat.

“ _ You keep fighting in there, alright? Fight and fight until we find a cure. _ ”

“I know,” she gulped. “I know. I- I- I-”

She froze as a violent chill ran up her spine, causing her to lose her train of thought. Spencer's face broke momentarily, giving away his fear and anguish.

“I’m sorry. I… love you, too, Spence,” she finally forced out. “More than you will ever know.”

“ _ Hopefully in an hour you’ll be out of there and you can try to tell me. _ ”

“Of course,” she smiled, halfheartedly. “I will.”

She had to hang up the call as she heard the decon team start to file in.

She turned around to find Dr. Kimura approaching her directly. “Dr. Ambers.”

“Dr. Kimura,” she smiled, trying to hide how nauseous she was beginning to feel. “You look nice.”

She glanced down at the red and grey suit she wore and laughed along. “I haven’t been in this outfit in a while.”

“How are the patients doing?” she asked, before mentally kicking herself. She didn’t want to know how many more had died. She didn’t need that weighing her down.

Luckily, Dr. Kimura seemed to think the same. “Let's worry about you.”

“I feel fine,” she deflected. “I don’t think I’ve inhaled that much.”

“I see you’re being careful,” she noted with a nod to Lydia’s mask, “but if you feel any pain, I can give you something.”

“Oh, I don’t think giving me morphine is a good idea.”

Dr. Kimura raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Are you sure? Some pain medication might make you feel more comfortable.”

Lydia shook her head quickly. “Don’t worry. In my line of work, you learn to focus despite your discomfort.”

Dr. Kimura still looked hesitant to let go of the subject.

“I feel fine,” she tried again. “I should work at the task at hand.”

“Ok. Tell me how I can help.”

_ Thank god. _ She could get back on track. Between Morgan, Hotch, Spence, and Dr. Kimura, she would never find the cure. Everyone would be too busy worrying about her condition.

“The team believes that there’s a cure for this strain within this lab,” she explained. “Our profile for Nichols says he’s secretive, and likely, he’s paranoid. So he would be protective of the cure. Probably hid it from his partner. Look for something totally unsuspicious.”

“Alright…” Dr. Kimura hesitated, knowing that those instructions were too broad. But Lydia didn’t have anything else. Her profiling skills didn’t go as far as the others. And she didn’t have the same information on Nichols or the partner that the others might be getting from Quantico.

Her phone rang sharply and she almost jumped at the vibrations in her pocket.

_ Fuck, she was succumbing quickly. Disoriented, panicked, nauseous. _

“Hello?” she asked, trying not to cough violently after saying it. Her throat was starting to dry.

“ _ How’s it going in there, kiddo? _ ” Morgan replied.

“I’ve seen better days,” she admitted, hoarsely.

“ _ Well, you’ve got me, Reid, and Garcia _ .”

“ _ Hey, Sugar. _ ”

Lydia couldn’t stop herself from smiling and was almost through the word “Spice” when the coughing fit finally took over.

“ _ Lydia, stick with me. Listen, Rossi and Prentiss don’t think the partner is a coworker. Can you tell us anything else about him? _ ”

_ God, she was hot.  _ She wiped her brow and tried to run her fingers through the tangled, sweaty mess that was her hair. “I don’t… I’m not sure. I looked through all the drawers, but I can’t-”

“ _ Come on now, kiddo. I know you’re not thinking straight, but the Lydia I know would not stop looking. _ ”

All she wanted to do was sleep. She didn’t care if Morgan called her lazy. She didn’t care if it wasn’t like her to quit. But then she remembered all those people at the hospital who were dying. They needed a break in the case. Now. She had to at least try to give that to them.

“Alright,” she mumbled, headed straight for the partner’s desk. “We think this partner is more like a protege, right? He clearly doesn’t know as much about the chemistry of anthrax than Nichols would. So maybe he was one of Nichols’s students?”

“ _ Nichols stopped teaching ages ago. Any of his students would likely be far more advanced now than what you described from the partner’s notes. _ ”

She flipped through everything she had left on the desk from her last search through the doors. “You’re right. These look more like my freshman year of college notes. Basics…” A large huff escaped her lips as she desperately attempted to swallow more air.  _ Could you drown in your own sweat? _ “Wait, wait- I’m looking at something here. My best guess is it’s a thesis and based on the marks in red along the sides, Nichols has been correcting it. So maybe, not one of  _ his _ students, but a local PhD student, looking for help on their thesis about anthrax?”

“ _ I can look up local PhD students, _ ” Garcia cut in.

“ _ Yeah, check the sciences, _ ” Morgan told her. “ _ Biochemistry, microbi- _ ”

“No, wait-” Lydia cut in through another coughing fit. “A science PhD student wouldn’t have all these other notes. It’s the only part that doesn’t line up with…” She trailed off, trying to skim what he had written, but it was so hard to concentrate.

“ _ Lydia? _ ”

Spencer… finally.

“ _ Lydia, you’re almost done. We’re so close to getting you out of there. Is there anything else you can tell us about this student? _ ”

She closed her eyes, soaking in his voice, without really considering what he was asking of her. “Okay...okay…” Eyes open again, she turned the thesis back to the opening page, a table of contents. “The chapters are on setting up mobile emergencies-” She fumbled for her words. “Emergency rooms. That’s not… Science students don’t care about city preparedness.”

“ _ Garcia, check with students in the social studies, _ ” Spence ordered. “ _ Public policy, urban planning. And cross check those with- _ ”

“- _ Former employees and customers with grievances at the bookstore, _ ” she finished for him. “ _ Hot to trot. There’s a Chad Brown, school of public policy at U of M. Matches a Chad Brown, former employee at the book front. _ ”

“ _ That’s gotta be him, _ ” Morgan said

“ _ Totally. He’s been in the doctoral program on and off for five years. Nix on a steady job. Was slapped with a restraining order from his former girlfriend and has been arrested and released twice at protest rallies in DC. I’ll tell Hotch. _ ”

Garcia spoke so fast that by the time Lydia had put Brown’s thesis down, she had already dropped off the call.

“ _ You did good, kiddo. _ ”

“Thanks, Morgan,” she rasped.

“ _ Now it’s time for you to get the hell out of there, _ ” Spencer demanded.

It wasn’t a cure, but Lydia was feeling so sick, she didn’t care. She’d done her best. Maybe it really was time to hit the hospital and succumb to the morphine.

“Yeah. Bye.”

She started to move towards the exit, knowing that they would have to decontaminate her before getting her into the ambulance, but was stopped on her way.

“Dr. Ambers!” Dr. Kimura called. “You said the cure would be hidden somewhere we wouldn’t suspect. What about Nichols’s inhaler?”

_...smart. _

_ Very smart. _

“Bag it as evidence,” she ordered. “I have to hope this is it. But I can’t stay.”

The older woman nodded, likely seeing the sway as Lydia stood before her, or the sweat slipping down her neck. “Let’s get you to the hospital and I’ll have this sent to your lab.”

“Thank you,” Lydia said, smiling through the pain.

~ ~ ~

The rest of the day was a blur. Lydia had small snippets of memory: the moment Derek left to help the rest of the team, having the get hosed down and changed into a hospital gown outside of Nichols’s house, Spencer promising to meet her at the hospital. But after the fog cleared up from her mind she was positive that those would disappear as well.

She let her eyes crack open and swallowed a groan. Her nose was burning and itchy from the plastic tubes connecting her to a breathing machine and her voice was practically gone. She didn’t want to open her eyes fully because at the moment, her head was a dull ache, but she was sure the lights would cause a full blown migraine.

Spencer was holding onto her left hand with his right, his own left arm a makeshift pillow underneath his head.

On the opposite side of the room, Derek and Penelope were leaning against a wall, talking quietly. Morgan had a red Jell-O cup in his hand.

“You know, Derek,” she mumbled, softly, “I think hospital Jell-O is meant for the patients.”

They both looked over at her smiles spreading across their faces.

“Hey, kiddo,” Morgan said, matching her vocal level to not wake Spencer. “Hey doc,” he directed outside the room. “Look who’s back.”

Dr. Kimura wandered in next, standing at the edge of Lydia’s bed to speak to her. “Hey, Dr. Ambers. How are you feeling?”

“What happened?” she asked, glancing between her friends and the doctor.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Morgan prefaced. “And we got Brown. It’s over.”

“And the other patients? Did any of them…?”

“The four who were still alive are on the mend,” Garcia finally said, anxious to spread joy after the day she’d had. “You were right, Lydia. You saved them.”

“I didn’t-”

“Uh-uh,” Morgan interrupted. “I will have none of that. You put a lot on the line to find that cure. To find Brown. We all got a happy ending after what you did. Bask in it for a minute.”

She rolled her eyes teasingly and turned to check in on her boyfriend once more. He was still peacefully sleeping across his elbow, his long hair shielding his eyes from her.

“He was very worried for you,” Dr. Kimura told her.

“I was worried about  _ him _ ,” was all Lydia said, gently squeezing his hand.

“How long do you think you two are going to do this back and forth thing?” Morgan teased. “One of you is always worried about the other.”

“When we lose our impulse control,” Lydia replied, but stopped, thinking of something better. “When we lose our hearts.”


	30. Faceless, Nameless (S5E1)

Around 7AM, Lydia got up for her morning class and was almost startled to see Spencer in bed beside her. He was practically comatose, so she left him be. He had just been working a case between Detroit, Michigan and Canada the past few days and clearly it had been rough, as he hadn’t told her he was on his way back. The team probably got back early that morning and he’d gone straight to sleep.

She went about her morning routine more carefully than normal, because with Spencer’s luck, he’d have to jump right back into work later today.

_ And lo and behold, she was right. _

Lydia rushed into their bedroom at the sound of a phone going off, wanting to silence it before Spencer woke up, but by the time she’d opened the door, he’d already hit the answer button.

“JJ?... No, it’s fine, where?... Sure, yeah, I’m on my way.”

As soon as he'd dropped his phone, he groaned, throwing his head back.

“Another one?” she asked gently. “How much sleep did you get?”

“Around 4 hours. JJ says that the police need us immediately.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, albeit a bit in vain. He was already getting up and grabbing his things.

“I know. Hopefully it’s short.” As he passed on his way out, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you. Talk to you this afternoon.”

“Don’t work yourself to death,” she teased.

~ ~ ~

A local surgeon, it seems, had been hiding his son after getting a threat on his son’s life. The unsub had made the promise to kill one person a day until the son was given up and he was holding up his end of the deal. Two dead, shot in the chest, with the letter’s LC as a signature. The case was extremely time sensitive.

Spencer was with the surgeon, Dr. Barton, helping him go through all the surgeries he’d performed within the last 6 months, but there were hundreds of medical charts for them to shift through. If Spencer could do this on his own, he could have finished them within a few hours, but knowing these people’s medical information wouldn’t help their case. Dr. Barton needed to tell them about threats he’d gotten, hard decisions he had to make, and interactions he had involving the cases and that meant Spencer was unfortunately only able to pull cases he thought were important.

Dr. Barton’s son, who’d been in the house for two days, had snuck out to go to school that morning, so Morgan, Rossi, and JJ were there to protect him and Prentiss was headed to Hotch’s apartment, because he hadn’t been answering his phone all morning and they needed the extra eyes.

Seeing Emily’s number pop up on his screen, Spencer breathed a sigh of relief to think she was on her way back. “Hey.”

“ _ Reid, Hotch is missing. _ ”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“ _ He’s not here, there’s blood- _ ”

“What-what are you talking about?” he stumbled. It was the most out of left field response he would have expected from Emily at this time.

“What’s going on?” Dr. Barton demanded, but Spencer was too busy listening to Emily to answer.

“ _ I’ve got Garcia putting an APB out on him and there are FBI techs on their way- _ ”

“Is this about Jeffrey?” Dr. Barton tried again.

Spencer pulled the phone away from his mouth. “No, no, it’s unrelated.”

“We only have a few hours left here.”

“I’m really sorry, I have to take this phone call, okay?”

“What could be more important than my son right now?!”

“I assure you this will take one second. Please, I promise.”

Dr. Barton simply huffed and stormed off.

“I’m sorry, Prentiss. What were you saying?”

“ _ There’s a huge hole in the wall. Probably a .44, but there’s no blood or tissue spray around it. _ ”

“Any idea how he got out?”

“ _ If he was shot, there are no drag marks, but a body could have been wrapped in something. _ ”

_ A _ body. Not  _ Hotch’s _ body. “And Bureau techs are on the way?”

“ _ Any second. _ ”

“Okay, call Lydia. She should be done with her last class in… 15 minutes. She’ll help you build a profile.”

“ _ How’s Dr. Barton? _ ”

Spencer glanced over at the pacing father. “It’s a huge list of cases to go through with him.”

“ _ Okay. Don’t worry about here. I’ll call Lydia and we’ll figure this out. Just stay focused _ .”

“Alright, you too.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia didn’t bother pulling out her badge, simply walking straight into Hotch’s apartment and past one of the concerned crime scene techs.

“Ma’am, ma’am, you can’t-”

“Prentiss,” she called, brushing him off. “What are we looking at?”

“She’s with me,” Emily told the poor guy, waving him away. “Everyone else is working the Dr. Barton case,” she began. “You, Reid, and Garcia are the only people I’ve told. The rest don’t need the distraction.”

“Got it. What did you find?”

Emily turned around and walked Lydia through the scene. “Hotch comes home this morning, drops his keys here, briefcase here, walks to the kitchen.”

Lydia could see where the trail ended for Emily. Clearly there was a scuffle, as there was broken glass on the floor, a gunshot through one of the walls, and blood behind the living room couch.

Lydia walked around a few times, picking up everything she could before telling Emily her theory.

“So, Hotch walks into the kitchen. Obviously, the unsub was hiding farther back in the apartment, because Hotch got this far without a struggle. Probably…” she glanced at the bottle of whiskey. “...poured himself a drink and was standing in the doorway when the other presence became known to him. Hotch moves-”

Lydia froze, stopping in the door from the kitchen to the living room.

“No,” she mumbled. “No, that’s not right. We assumed the shot was a misfire. If Hotch was standing here, it would have gone right over his shoulder. But the killer had another weapon on him, because there’s no other bullet scars in the walls, floors, furniture, nothing. If the blood didn’t come from a gun, I think he was stabbed. Did we check if Hotch was missing any knives?”

Emily shook her head. “No, there’s nothing out of place from what I can tell.”

“Only something like a bullet or stabbing wound would produce that much blood,” Lydia reasoned. “If the unsub didn’t take one of Hotch’s, he came prepared with the knife, which makes the bullet hole in the wall intentional. Maybe to get Hotch’s attention.”

“I don’t follow.”

“If he had a gun, why bring a knife?” Lydia explained. “Perhaps the plan wasn’t to kill, but to injure. You tend to have a lot more control over a stabbing. You can render Hotch incapable of fighting back or have him lose consciousness, but not kill him. So the gun was purely to have control over the situation. He shot over Hotch’s shoulder to scare him.”

“This unsub is confident,” Emily gathered. “He was lying in wait for Hotch and stayed even after seeing Hotch put his gun on the counter. So he likely already knew Hotch was FBI.”

“Makes sense, but why not just kill him? If it was personal, why take him?”

“Hotch makes a lot of enemies-”

“We all do,” Lydia corrected.

“Maybe he wanted to make the pain or fear last longer? But in the end, with all the cases he works, any number of details could be significant to this unsub.”

Lydia nodded. “Frustrating, but true. So, our guy fires a shot and Hotch smashes his whiskey glass over the guys head, trying to get a chance to reach for his gun, but he doesn’t get it. Unsub knocks him backwards, back into the living room. Maybe Hotch hits his head, maybe he struggles some more and the unsub hits him a few times, but Hotch isn’t at his best. He’s lying on the floor when he gets stabbed.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. The blood only pools like this underneath a still body. If he was standing, we would have seen splatter patterns from the height between the wound and the floor. And there would be multiple pools as a result of his swaying, even if he wasn’t walking around.”

“Okay, so we know generally how the scene played out. Anything else?”

Lydia sighed. “Not from me, no. I don’t have my gloves or evidence bags and we already have crime scene techs here to search physical evidence. I don’t imagine I’ll be much help.”

“You’re already a lot of help,” Emily promised. “We know we’re looking at an organized unsub. Someone who knows Hotch, or at the very least, knows  _ of _ him. He’s cocky, arrogant.”

“Alright.” The two locked eyes. “Where do we go from here?”

~ ~ ~

“Talk to us, Garcia,” Emily answered her phone, setting it on speaker and holding it between her and Lydia.

“ _ Okay, I- I called hospitals to see if Hotch had gotten himself admitted to an emergency room. _ ”

“And?”

“ _ He’s not listed as a patient, but someone dropped a john doe off at St. Sebastian Hospital, and that someone’s name was FBI Agent Derek Morgan. _ ”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Emily said.

“ _ I know. D-do you think they got their credentials mixed up? _ ”

The women were silent for a minute and then Emily’s face dropped.

“What is it, Em?” Lydia prodded.

“The reaper.”

“That case from March?” Lydia asked. She hadn’t been on it, but supposedly it wasn’t the usual find the unsub, stop the murder, type cases. Spencer said George Foyet had stopped killing for 10 years, before miraculously showing back up to taunt the FBI. He’d gone so far as to stab himself multiple times to fake his death and he’d escaped imprisonment not a few days after the BAU found him.

“Foyet took Morgan’s creds,” Emily explained.

“ _ Why would he drop him off at the ER? _ ”

“What hospital did you say again?” Lydia interrupted.

“ _ St. Sebastian Hospital _ .”

“Let’s go.”

Emily nodded. “Garcia, I’ll call you with an update when we get there.”

~ ~ ~

Hotch had been stabbed 9 times in the abdomen, but was miraculously still alive. No arteries had been hit, so they just had to wait for anesthesia to wear off and for him to wake up.

Lydia was skimming through some of the emails she’d gotten from students and didn’t notice Emily pick up Hotch’s medical chart, read it, and rush over to his doctor.

“LC on the unsub’s note,” Emily was saying into her phone when she walked back in, catching Lydia’s attention. “It stands for ‘living children’... It’s administrative. It’s when they’re afraid a patient’s gonna go on life support and they don’t have a DNR order… Reid?”

Lydia could gather that Emily had seen the initials on Hotch’s medical chart, but seeing as she didn’t know the details of the case Spencer was working, she was lost on the rest.

Emily was silent, nodding distantly as if her mind was somewhere else. Lydia watched her, trying to see if she could pick up more of what was going on on the other end of the conversation, but it took almost a full minute for anything to happen.

The gunshot on the other side of the phone was loud enough for Lydia to hear it without the phone being on speaker or even remotely near her.

“Reid?!” Emily hissed. Lydia jumped up, trying to get closer and figure out what was going on. “Answer me!  _ Reid?!! _ ”

After another minute of silence, Emily took the phone away from her ear and hung up, typing in another number.

“What’s going on?” Lydia demanded. “Is Spencer okay?”

Emily put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder and put the phone up to her ear, not having time to answer her question. “This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss from the FBI. I need police and an ambulance to 120 Kensington Road, McLean, Virginia. Shots fired. Federal agent possibly down.”

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck- _

~ ~ ~

“No one else is there?!” Lydia demanded.

“They’re with Jeffrey at the school,” Emily tried to explain. “We’d assumed Jeffrey was the target, so we sent most of the team there to ensure all the kids were safe. But they’re on their way there now. Please, just sit down for a-”

“Emily, the last thing I want to do is sit down and think about what this means, okay? You said you only heard one gunshot, yes?”

She nodded.

“So, maybe Spencer didn’t get shot. Perhaps he dropped his phone when he heard the sound and ran to help Dr. Barton. I mean, if the unsub hit Spencer, he would have kept shooting until he hit his target, yeah?”

Emily was clearly not convinced. There were plenty of reasons the unsub might not have kept shooting after hitting the wrong person, but she didn’t voice them outloud. There was no point. Lydia already knew them all.

“How long will it take the rest of the team to get to Dr. Barton’s house?”

“Not too long,” Emily admitted.

“Someone would have called me if Spencer got hurt, yeah? Like Morgan or Rossi, they would let me know if Spencer had gotten shot?”

“I don’t know.” Emily was getting exasperated. She was anxious too, but there was nothing either of them could do for the moment. If Spencer had been shot, an ambulance would get there much faster than they could. The only option was to wait.

“I’m gonna go outside,” Lydia said, before slipping out of the room and towards the exit of the emergency room.

Her arms shook with unused energy and she had to do something physical before she went into a full blown panic attack. She hadn’t felt the need to take out her anxieties with her fists in a while, but it was better than nothing. Finding a quiet, secluded spot outside, she made a few punches through the air, but it wasn’t enough. Before she could think any better of it, one of her arms went flying towards the wall of the hospital, the outside of her fist smacking against it and causing a gasp of pain to escape her mouth.

She cradled her hand for a minute or two and was just beginning to feel the compulsion to do it again when her phone dinged in her pocket.

_ Emily: Spencer’s okay. Got shot in the leg and is being brought here to get patched up. Team says he’s totally fine. _

Thank god.

~ ~ ~

Lydia tried her best to look annoyed while approaching Spencer’s bed, but he gave her a tired smile and she lost her glare to a giggle.

“Should I dramatically start with  _ ‘Wait, did I get shot?’ _ ”

Lydia smacked the side of his head, causing locks of his hair to fall across his eyes. “I’m pretty sure my bullet removal surgery in my abdomen was more complicated than the stitches you just got through the thigh. I was on all sorts of pain killers. Don’t make fun of me.”

He sent her a challenging look, but it became serious all too fast. “Catch me up on Hotch.”

Lydia had been keeping up with Emily since Spencer arrived at the hospital, so she relayed all the information she knew. “Foyet stabbed him, got Haley’s address from Hotch’s address book, then dropped Hotch off here. So, the team rushed to Haley’s house, to find her and Jack. They’re on their way here to say goodbye to Hotch and then, they’re going to be put into protective custody.”

“Poor Hotch,” Spence sighed. “He won’t be able to see his son again until we catch Foyet.”

“You guys will get him,” she reassured. “He’s just one guy against the smartest group of people I know… Now, catch me up on what happened to you.”

“Right,” he mumbled. “Um, the unsub’s name was Patrick Meyers. His son died in a car accident and was admitted to a hospital and declared brain dead. Meyers was threatening Dr. Barton’s son, Jeffrey, because he wanted us to send our forces to protect Jeffrey and leave Dr. Barton unprotected. Emily was the one who helped me figure it out. Meyers left the initials LC at the end of his notes, standing for living child. He was warning Barton that he was going to leave Jeffrey without a father. But when we came to that conclusion, I realized that Barton had walked out the front door and I rushed out to stop him. I dropped my phone, tackled Barton to the ground, and surprise-” he gestured to his left leg “-I got hit.”

Lydia nodded. “Went right through. Doctor says you’re going to be on crutches for a little while.”

“Now when people see us walking together, they’re going to pity us both. You’ve got your limp and I’ll be dragging my left leg behind me like a garbage bag-”

“Oh, you’re so right!” she laughed. “What a pair of outcasts we’ll look like. Although I think that when most people see the look in my eyes, they stop pitying me.”

“Why’s that?”

“A student told me the other day that I’m the most terrifying person he’d ever met. I asked if that meant he didn’t like the class and he was like ‘nah, I like it a lot, but every time you mention that you work with the FBI, I remember everything I’ve done wrong in my life and panic that you’re going to interrogate me one day.’ It was the weirdest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

Spencer chuckled. “I’m with him. Whenever Hotch sends you into the interrogation room, I feel bad for the poor suspect.”

“When I interrogated Jonny McHale, he punched me! And there were four other people in the room!”

“Once I went to interview a murderer with Hotch as part of a study the BAU was doing and while we were there, Hotch tried to get into a fist fight with him.”

“ _ No! _ ” Lydia cried. “There’s no way!”

“Hotch is generally unpredictable, but when he’s agitated, I have to wonder how he got a job with the Bureau.”

“ _ Ahem _ .”

The couple’s heads swerved around to find JJ standing in the door.

“Hey, Jayje,” Lydia greeted embarrassedly. “What’s up?”

  
  


“I wanted to check in with Spencer, before I went home. It’s been a long day.”

“No kidding,” he agreed. “I’m fine, though. I have to be on crutches for a while, but kicking down doors was Morgan’s job anyway.”

Lydia felt like a child for laughing at his words. But she’d long for those moments of innocence in the upcoming months.


	31. 100 (S5E9)

Lydia mindlessly spun her father’s ring around her finger until the skin turned red and raw. She hadn’t seen any of the team since she showed up to Quantico that morning and it felt… bare. Her mind was empty, a strange occurrence for her. She wanted to let it drift somewhere more pleasant than there and then, but if she had any thought at all, it was flashes of the scene from yesterday.

So, she spun her ring and stared at the floor and waited.

“They’re ready for you,” Anderson informed her.

He likely thought she didn’t hear him when she didn’t look up, but she was just taking the moment to prepare. Slow breaths.

As she stood, JJ stepped out into the hallway and gave her a reassuring nod, before going back to her office.

Lydia glanced back at her retreating figure, as if it might tell her what JJ was thinking. She wanted to know how it had gone, how long JJ had been in there, how in depth she had to explain… But sadly, Lydia couldn’t know that from staring at the back of her blonde head.

Chief Strauss waited at the door as Lydia walked into the interview room, her face stern. “Have a seat.”

Lydia did as she was told, walking around to the side of the table with the single chair and trying to look as composed as possible.

Once the door was closed, Strauss stepped forward and turned on the recording device in the center of the table, not sitting down across from her just yet. “Please state your name and rank for the record.”

“Dr. Lydia Ambers, forensic contractor for the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia.”

“And how long have you been working for the BAU?”

“Four years.”

“And have you worked under Agent Hotchner that entire time?”

She tried not to let the question slip her up too much. “No, ma’am, for the past 3 months I’ve been reporting to Agent Morgan.”

“Derek Morgan, the acting Unit Chief of the BAU, because Aaron Hotchner’s ability to lead was compromised.”

Lydia was pretty sure that Strauss did not need to say that for the record, but was trying to get a rise out of her. “Agent Hotchner stepped down from his position after his family went into protective custody, yes,” she said, gently.

She refused to let Strauss twist any of her words around on her. Lydia was trained in interrogation techniques. She could not be fooled so easily.

“How would you describe Agent Hotchner’s recent behavior?”

“To be honest, ma’am, I haven’t seen much of SSA Hotchner since he stepped down. I’ve only worked one case with the BAU under Agent Morgan, but I did not see much of a difference in Agent Hotchner during that time.”

“You mean he was still acting like your boss?”

“No ma’am, I mean he was dedicated to the job.”

A pause. “When were you called into the Bureau yesterday?”

“At around 10am, I got a call from Spencer when-”

_ Fuck.  _ Dr _. Reid. _

“You mean SSA Spencer Reid,” she clarified. “Would you explain your relationship with Dr. Reid for the record?”

Now she really had to step lightly. “Dr. Reid and I have been in a romantic relationship for two years now.” A lie, but it was the amount of time Hotch had listed in the system and it was most likely what Spence would say as well.

“And has your relationship ever hindered your ability to do your job?”

“Not to my knowledge, ma’am. If it had, I imagine Agent Hotchner wouldn’t let me keep working with him.”

Strauss grimaced and finally sat across from Lydia at the table. “Please continue your recount of the day.”

Right. “I got a call from Dr. Reid about the Foyet case at around 10, yesterday morning. I immediately headed to the office and met up with the team in the conference room. In our most recent case in Hampton, Virginia, we had visited inmate Carl Arnold, who’d been receiving letters from George Foyet. These letters were mailed from Fredericksburg and Westminster, meaning he was still in the DC area and they believed they could find him based on the prescriptions he was taking. Tapazole, specifically, as he could not substitute it for any other medication, therefore he had to be one of the people within the DC area who needed a prescription for it. A quick anagram of his title, The Reaper, and we found someone in Arlington named Peter Rhea, which we believed to be the alias he was under.”

“So, the team called for a SWAT unit to enter Foyet’s potential apartment,” Strauss picked up for her. “But you didn’t go in.”

“Not for a while, no. The team determined that if Foyet was not in the apartment when they entered, it might tip him off that they knew of his secret identity and he might run, making it impossible to catch him again. So, Agent Morgan decided to send an FBI agent undercover to see if anyone was home, and if not, to put a camera underneath the door so that they could look for proof that it was Foyet’s apartment. The camera showed that a meal had been left on the counter, uneaten, and the mail had been dropped on the floor, indicating he’d left in a hurry. So, they went in.”

“And what did you find?”

“His laptop was the main discovery. Our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, hacked in and found that when we ran a check on the name Peter Rhea, an alarm went off, which is what caused him to leave. And he’d been attempting to delete files of surveillance footage of Sam Kassmeyer, the US Marshal in charge of Haley and Jack Hotchner.”

“Do you believe Agent Hotchner was acting agitated or unreasonable?”

“No, ma’am,” Lydia snapped.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“Agent Hotchner’s concern for his family was a completely reasonable and healthy response. He never asked anything of us that we weren’t already willing to do and he did his job just as I’d expect him to do on any other day.

“Following our discovery, Agent Hotchner called Marshal Kassmeyer, who failed to pick up. He left a message, saying that we were on our way and warning him of the danger to Jack and Haley.

“Upon arrival, we found Marshal Kassmeyer on the floor of his home, badly beaten with a missing finger and a few gunshot wounds. We called for an ambulance immediately and Agent Hotchner attempted to get some sort of explanation from him, but in the state he was in, it was far too difficult, so when the paramedics arrived, Agent Hotchner went with them, to see him off to the hospital and to continue to get an idea of what had happened earlier that day.”

“And what exactly did he find out?”

Lydia tried not to glare at Strauss. This was hard on her. The later the day got, the more exhausted she became of it all. And Lydia absolutely hated to feel like she was being interrogated.

“Kassmeyer didn’t give anything up. But Foyet found his phone and contacted Haley through it. He told her that Kassmeyer was dead, as well as Agent Hotchner, and that in order to protect herself and her son, she needed to ditch her phone and meet him at a separate location. That location being-”

“Agent Hotchner’s old residence,” Strauss finished.

“Yes.”

“And how did the team come to this conclusion?”

“The profile on the Reaper has been solid since his return from his ten year hiatus. After a fairly quick discussion between the team members, it was pretty obvious where he would take Haley and Jack.”

“A discussion that SSA Hotchner wasn’t present for, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. After Kassmeyer was admitted to the hospital, Agent Hotchner had a car brought to him and he drove to Foyet. We were right on his tail, hoping to reach his house before anything happened to Haley or Jack, but we were too late. When we reached the scene, both Haley Hotchner and George Foyet were dead.”

~ ~ ~

“How was your interrogation?” Lydia asked Emily quietly.

The two women were against one of the walls of the conference room, watching JJ, Spencer, and Rossi entertain Jack Hotchner while Hotch gave his statement.

The older woman rolled her eyes. “Strauss is persistent, I’ll give her that.”

Lydia nodded. “I don’t want to think about how badly she’s tearing into Hotch right now. At least there are others there to keep her in line.”

“Hotch doesn’t exactly look good without her help. He was extremely emotionally involved and there were no other witnesses to Haley or Foyet’s death.”

“But there was no debate over Haley’s death,” Lydia argued. “We all…  _ heard _ it.”

Emily shrugged. “Strauss was pretty harsh in there. I think she can make the whole team sound like unreliable narrators.”

“And what happens then? Hotch loses his wife and his job all at once?”

“Let’s hope not…”

Her voice dropped even more as Hotch’s entrance to the conference room caught everyone’s attention. He didn’t say anything, but Jack jumped up when he saw his father and ran into his arms.

He looked like crap. His nose was swollen and the bags under his eyes were a deep purple. His stare was vacant, even as he clung to his son. But he was through the worst of it now, Lydia liked to think.

Spencer stood up and made his way towards Lydia once Emily left, still depending heavily on a cane after being shot in the leg. “You ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Let’s just make sure Hotch doesn’t need anything else.”

“I don’t think there’s much we can give him,” Spencer admitted. “I wish there was.”

~ ~ ~

“I want you to know that I can’t lose you,” Spencer said a few weeks later, having just gotten back from work.

The situation was laying heavily on everyone. The team was still tiptoeing around Hotch despite his okay to go back to work and Haley’s funeral was an unfortunately unsatisfactory affair, after everyone was called away on another case.

Lydia imagined Spencer was exhausted, so a declaration wasn’t out of character, but it didn’t stop the small smile pulling at her lips. “A sweet thought, Spence,” she said, patting the couch beside her for him to sit.

However, he kept going. “I know you’re worried about everyone. I know you see this as a reminder to hold onto the things we have. And you have me, totally and completely. But there’s something else, unrelated to all of this… I think we could use some joy in our lives right now.”

“Something else?”

Lydia wasn’t even sure if she had the mental capacity to process his words, but Spencer made it pretty obvious when he stepped up beside the couch and got down on one knee.

“I needed to prove my devotion to you at one point or another.”

Lydia blinked at him, deafly.  _ Once… twice… _ Then, a giggle escaped her lips. “Are we getting married, Spence?”

“Well, I don’t know,” he joked. “You haven’t said yes yet.”

“Wh-Yes! A hundred times yes!” Without even looking at the ring in his hand, she swung her arms around his neck, almost tackling him to the ground. “Jesus, to be honest, you could have just left the ring on the coffee table with a note and gone to work. I wouldn’t think you’d need an answer.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to say that I know you well enough to assume you’d say yes, you never fail to surprise me. I imagine some day I’ll find out you’re leading an elaborate secret life where you’re a hitman for the mafia.”

“I  _ wish _ . Imagine the excitement of pretending to teach at a university while you hunt unsubs just like me! That would be some heist to pull off.” Finally, she let go of her boyfriend and looked down at the elegant metal band encased in a velvety black box. “Gosh, it’s beautiful, Spence. You really didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did.” He slid the ring gently onto her finger as he spoke. “Good thing you’re not an unsub. It would make you being my fiancée much more awkward.”

Lydia’s hands reached up to her cheeks to hide her embarrassment, but there wasn’t much she could do to cover the pink. “Fiancée. That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“Don’t get too used to it. I plan to change that title to wife as soon as I have the opportunity.” Spencer leaned in, landing one kiss before more questions flooded Lydia’s mind.

“How will we tell the team?”

The mischievous smirk that crossed Spencer’s face led Lydia to believe he’d been planning for that for a long time. “I’m hoping there’s some brilliant opportunity to drop it into conversation. Leave them doubting they heard correctly.”

“I’m so ready for that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter should be up on Friday! It's gonna be pretty short (no wedding, I'm sorry), but I hope you enjoy it!!!


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